


The Trial of Fordola rem Lupis

by EsaraAlexandos



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Alternative Perspective, Battle, Enemies, F/F, F/M, Fantasy, Fate, Female Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Final Fantasy XIV: Stormblood Spoilers, Flashbacks, Friendship, Garleans (Final Fantasy XIV), Gen, Legal Drama, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parallel Universes, Parallels, Patriotism, Post-Final Fantasy XIV: Stormblood, The Echo (Final Fantasy XIV), Trials, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:01:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 110,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25937080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EsaraAlexandos/pseuds/EsaraAlexandos
Summary: Long after the events of Stormblood, Fordola rem Lupis awaits her day in court. To give an account of her life, her betrayal of Ala Mhigo and of her twisted relationship with Lord Zenos and the Warrior of Light...Covers events before, during and after Stormblood from a different perspective. I've tried to be 'loyal' to cannon in providing a lot more focus on the Crani Lupi and events in Ala Mhigo before and during Stormblood. Takes place shortly before the events of The Ghimlyt Dark and Shadowbringers.
Relationships: Fordola rem Lupis/Warrior of Light, Zenos yae Galvus/Fordola rem Lupis
Comments: 9
Kudos: 43





	1. The Trial

**Author's Note:**

> I found Fordola to be one of the most interesting characters of Stormblood, and feel she has been somewhat forgotten since then. This is my attempt to give an account of her life, her betrayals and her relationships with Zenos and the Warrior of Light. 
> 
> This is set just before the events of Shadowbringers, and (needless to say) requires a full understanding of the events of Stormblood (including the post game)
> 
> This is a work in progress and my first posting on archive of our own! While I have attempted to keep cannon wherever possible, discrepancies may appear and are entirely my own fault.

#  **The Trial**

It took twenty Ala Mhigan guards to stop the crowd from murdering her on the steps of the Ala Mhigo Court of Justice. 

Even then, it was a close thing. 

“Garlean Dog, murderer, traitor!!” The crowd roared repeatedly as Fordola Rem Lupis was steadily led up the steps, head up high, her eyes unblinking, gazing forward. 

Despite her plain brown garments and how her hands were bound together in iron chains - the former Imperial collaborator maintained a certain amount of pride and dignity as she continued forwards. The armoured guards flanked her, shoving the braying mob back whenever they got too close. 

Suddenly, as Fordola was nearing the top of the court steps, a Hyur woman lunged out from behind a column at her. Only the quick actions of two guards managed to stop her reaching Fordola, boldly grabbed arms on either side and forced the assailant down to her knees just short of her target. Fordola who saw the flash and glanced down saw the kitchen knife grasped in the woman’s right hand even as one of the men twisted it from her grip. 

“Murderer!” the woman cursed; her voice harsh with raw emotion. “Your wolves killed my husband,” and spat; but from her position on the ground the missile landed short. 

Fordola felt her heart twist as the energy of the mob intensified. She looked back over the city bathed in brilliant morning sunlight. 

Her city – which she had sacrificed so much for. 

Although she had known this day would happen and had spent the weeks preparing and hardening her heart for it after being trapped in a cell of a constant gloom and damp it was like being reborn – seeing her nation bathed in sun. 

She had never known a moment as bittersweet as this. 

The crying of the woman’s two small children, who had been hanging back until now and finally chose to break forward to stand next to their mother, sobbing pitifully even as the knife lay glinting on the steps next to them – did not change Fordola’s emotions. 

“You, forward!” One of the few guards not fully tasked with holding back the loud crowd gave her a push with his broad shield, and she stumbled forward, before catching her footing. 

The great oak doors of the Court of Justice were pulled open from inside and she walked in. Steadily she advanced down the hallway between two pews of hushed, seated spectators; all striving to catch a glimpse of her, yet afraid to meet her eyes. An air of feverish, suppressed expectation almost matching that of the crowd outside in its raw emotion. 

The doors behind swung shut and the noise from the mob was suppressed as the guards took up station at the back of the chamber and Fordola continued, alone; down the centre aisle as her eyes steadily adjusted to the sudden change in light. 

Finally, she reached the raised dais at the front of the pews and stepped carefully up to the top as required, the chains on her arms rattling as the last murmurs from the pews dropped away. 

A huge tapestry swung from the rafters, the silver griffin with sword in talons on a brilliant field of purple, the flag of her city, Ala Mhigo. 

It was funny – once the sight of this flag flying here would have filled her with such pride and joy, but now she felt…nothing. An empty void where once there had been a patriotic fire burning – that fire which had led her to ruination…well, then again, that’s why she was here. 

The towering rafters of the Ala Mhigo Court of Justice from which this flag hung were as pitiless as the faces sat across from her. 

_Flicker_ , _a great white dragon,_

_Flicker, a snowy city of towering spires,_

_Flicker, a flower falling, tumbling into a ravine_

Fordola muttered a curse and shook her head violently as the visions tried to pull her away from reality. For a moment she was pulled in two violently opposing directions, between dreams and reality, echoes and truth…but then the visions broke apart and she tasted blood and realised she had bit her lip in her struggle to break free. 

Her Echo was strong. 

“Court is now in session!” The voice cut through the hubbub behind her and Fordola refocused, at the semi-circle of chairs arrayed in front of her and the stony eyed individuals seated upon them. The speaker stood out, with his brilliant white hair, the scion called Alphinaud. 

“Fordola Rem Lupis.” the boy spoke, his tone prim and clear, it sounded perhaps a little too perfectly rehearsed. “You are here today, in the year 1573, to answer to the charges laid against you in this court of law. As a Scion of the 7th Dawn, I – Alphinaud Leveilleur, will serve as a neutral adjudicator for these proceedings.” He paused for a moment before continuing, gesturing to one side. “To my immediate right sits representatives unanimously chosen by the Republic of Ala Mhigo’s council members, General Raubahn Aldynn of the Eorzean Alliance and beside him, commander of the resistance troops of Ala Mhigo, Lyse Hext” 

The man’s eyes were two specks of coal amidst a bronze face, broad of body with arms that matched a tree trunks girth. Not a hint of mercy was to be found with the bull of Ala Mhigo and Fordola allowed her gaze to drift to the young woman sitting proudly next to him. 

Fordola had heard the jokes from her male kinsmen during the occupation, the leader of the resistance was indeed attractive, and the younger woman’s bold, red-trimmed, traditional Ala Mhigan garb accentuated her femininity. This, however, was mixed with a confidence and assertiveness, previously missing, which in turn had now sharpened some of her softer edges and Fordola found Lyse coolly meeting her gaze, the weight of their shared history - on opposing sides - flashing between them. 

“To my immediate right and representing the Eorzean Alliance, Kan-E-Senna, head of the Gridania Seedseer Council and beside her, Merlwyb Bloefhiswyn, Chief Admiral and leader of Limsa Lominsa.” Alphinaud continued with a note of hesitation in his voice, Fordola knew he had seen the charged look between the two women. 

She forced herself to instead glance over to the diminutive seedseer, her arms folded on the table before her, eyes half shut, garbed in soft white robes with a haze of aether shimmering around her. This haze framed a seemingly ageless face, perfectly placed to hide the thoughts behind it. 

Fordola did not bother to look at the Admiral perched on the end of the table; she knew only her death sentence would stare back at her. 

“Finally!” Alphinaud continued, a bounce of levity entering his voice as if in relief at completing these most basic of introductions. “Not to pass judgement but to intercede as required, hero of the Eorzean alliance, saviour of Ala Mhigo and champion of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, our Warrior of Light!” 

A rumble of approval resounded in the small crowd pressed together behind her and Fordola finally allowed her eyes to be drawn across the room, away from the table, almost to the wall. There, off to one side; where a woman of quiet almost insignificant bearing sat, a woman who nevertheless wielded unimaginable power. 

The Warrior of Light radiated strength. Fordola could feel it, through her forced gift of the Echo it pricked her skin with waves of aetheric power. It aroused a hundred emotions within her, fear, hatred, kinship, awe, and yes, jealousy as well.

The Warrior had her eyes on the ground, a slight smile on her lips but this was carefully guarded. She was of a similar height to Fordola but wearing something far more eye-catching; unmistakably casual garb that somewhat clashed with her image of a multiple slayer of Gods, thorn in the Garlean Empire side and champion of the downtrodden masses. 

Fordola studied her face and felt a strange tug within her. 

It made her smile, they had talked several weeks back when the Warrior had been interested in learning Fordola’s thoughts on fighting primals, and instead they had shared so much more through the mutual gift they shared. 

They both had the Echo, willingly or not. The Warrior of Light had this burden unknowingly bestowed upon her by a being of tremendous power; while Fordola had knowingly had this forced on her by a man of twisted, tremendous desire. They had each stared into the other's heart, the other woman unwillingly, but Fordola had deliberately seen what the warrior had been through. That lasting moment had shook her to the coret. 

They had each fought countless battles; been used, betrayed and equally cast aside by those that had professed to know them, ones that hated them, ones that loved them. 

Each had striven for a better world as they saw it and clashed in the name of their beliefs, and yet they had also fought alongside each other, against a primal god itself. But Fordola, with all her bitter experiences, had only experienced a fraction of the betrayals and turmoils the champion of Eorzea had faced. 

Fordola remembered how their conversation had continued long into the night; it was curious, she wondered if the white-haired brat before her knew the depth and extent of his champion's heart; she suspected not. There were also the words of Zenos...'she is one among millions, a warrior, a paladin, a healer, man or woman...' 

Suddenly the Warrior of Light looked at her, Fordola saw the swirling eddies of aether coalesce and dance across her slender frame and Alphinauds voice died away as… 

_Flicker, a massive serpent screamed its defiance,_

_Flicker, a shadowy figure laughed as he vanished into a portal of darkness,_

_Flicker, a young woman with corded white hair up stared up at her in admiration._

Fordola groaned and broke eye contact, trying to raise a hand reflectively to her head. The cold press of the chains dug into her hand and she dragged her gaze back to the council that would decide her fate, this was no time for curious infatuations. 

Alphinaud was now seated and Lyse had stood, clothes of shining red swathed her body – as defiant as the city state she now effectively ran and her tone was sharp. 

“Fordola Rem Lupis, you are the last on a long list of names that we have stood in judgement for. People have stood where you stand now and pled ignorance of their crimes; others that their actions caused no harm and a few even glorified in their actions. I wonder – how will you explain your actions?” 

Fordola said nothing but felt an old spark of defiance reignite and she jutted out her chin in defiance before holding back the words that almost left her mouth. 

Lyse, perhaps seeing this moment come and go, continued. “We have discussed your crimes extensively over the preceding two days in open court, how you aided and colluded with the imperial forces, intimidated and coerced your fellow countrymen, stood at the right hand of the butcherer Zenos and how your personal actions led to the deaths of countless citizens and resistance members alike, how do you plead to your actions?” 

“I was taught,” Fordola began slowly, her tone rough in comparison and unused to forming sentences of late; “that history is written by the victor. Aye, I hated the Empire like any daughter of Ala Mhigo should, but I was brought up in a nation ruled by them. I was raised with the stories of our “proud” history beforehand, of the long line of weak kings, the excesses of the Fist of Rhalgr, the butchery and brutality of King Theodoric, the endless bloodshed of our glorious revolution that finally shook him off!” She spat at that, off to one side at that, warming to her tempo. “When the peasants rose up and the palace swam with the blood of noble and peasant alike – before the Garleans came to conquer our remains and our glorious revolutionary armies practically fell beside themselves to surrender and be fed and watered by the Empire in imprisonment!” 

The crash of Rubahns fists smashing into the wooden table broke her monologue and Fordola saw Alphinaud flinch away from the man who now was leaning forward, a look of murder building in his eyes, venom dripping his tone, “What is your point butcher!?” 

“My point…” Fordola was past caring, she had known her fate from the moment she saw the council. “My point is that I was brought up in a nation fed by the Garleans, rebuilt and even administered _effectively_ by the Garleans. For nearly twenty years we were even starting to prosper like the Garleans – they were the law that decided guilt or innocence and I obeyed that law, I protected it. They brought wealth and jobs – more than ever with Baelsars Wall to the west fuelling a boom in stonemasons, labourers and craftsman alike.” 

“That was a wall constructed on the backs of slaves.” Kan-E-Senna said softly, her voice still able to cut through the murmur of the disgruntled crowd behind Fordola. Kan-E-Senna was the perfect antithesis to the brute hostility of Rubahn. “We took in those that fled the construction of that towering monument to imperial tyranny, we heard the stories of the forced labour camps” 

“Prisoners of war.” Fordola retorted, but the seedseer had hit a chord. “Terrorist elements of the rebellion were sent to work on that wall, but only as a small portion of the overall workforce and they were lucky the Garleans set them to work, fed and watered. Did you see any captured Garleans at Rhalgrs Reach before this city fell?” The Seedseer said nothing and Fordola continued over the increasingly angry background hum of the watching citizens, “The people of Ala Mhigo are known for their labour and industries and many of our people went willingly to work on Imperial walls and Imperial defences for Imperial coin; don’t pretend your morals are any better than theirs!” 

“Enough!” Rubahn barked, cutting off all noise again, “You said you had a point, what was it?” 

“My point is…” Fordola bit back choice curses, “Are you stringing up these civilian workers that built the defences you had to overcome? No, you focus on those few that fought for Garlean coin rather than most people that willingly cooperated with an Empire that brought stability and order.” Fordola rose her voice as the Seedseer began to open her mouth again. “Some of the city elders of Ala Mhigo may still remember a time when they cheered the hosts of King Manfred when he burned the East Shroud and crushed Gridanian forces at Tinolqa. Now I hate the Empire for “oppressing” us – but I hate this pathetic vision sold to the masses, the idea that Ala Mhigo has a noble, proud history as an equal among other states when we have centuries of mad kings who led our cheering armies to rape and pillage our neighbours before turning on our people.” 

She paused with all eyes on her and finally felt the cold icy anger in her veins begin to fade away, wearily she looked down at her chained hands. “I tire of this, aye I served the Empire willingly and did willingly take the actions I thought would further the people of Ala Mhigo in the employ of the Empire, so take my head if that is your will.” 

_Flicker_ , _a goddess of gold and lapis lazuli bewitching in her gaze_

Fordola angrily glanced to the silent Warrior of Light as she fought the vision back. “Yes, just as I helped slay the fade of Lakshimi to protect the people of Ala Mhigo alongside you, the vaunted hero, so did I cross blades with you to protect this city from its _liberating_ forces. If you had failed you would still be known as terrorists and an unlawful rebellion, instead you get to be liberators restoring a nation back to its people as a republic. How long now until we appoint a new mad king?” Unbidden she glanced over at Lyse “or perhaps a queen?” 

Rabahn snorted and looked away in disgust but Lyse looked concerned. “If you mean to undermine our new republic you will otherwise have to try harder. That said, your actions against Lakshimi alongside us were heroic and speak in your favour.’ 

“Unless she was simply looking out for her own neck.” Admiral Merlwyb mused stroking her chin thoughtfully, her eyes harsh. 

“The purpose of why we have called you today.” Alphanuad spoke up again, looking at the high council, “Is to hear your side of events during the Ala Mhigan occupation, all of it – so that we may consider that against our deliberations these past few days.” 

“We ask only that you speak the truth.” Lyse said “we will know if you aren’t.” She waved a hand towards the Warrior of Light. 

“Did you wheel out your pet champion to read the minds of everyone accused of crime?” Fordola couldn’t stop herself, before pausing. “I take that back - you have scant reason to trust me I suppose, alright then – it’s a long tale – where should I start?” 

“Give us as wide an overview as you can” Alphanuad suggested before the others could speak “What was it like under Imperial Occupation, what led you to form the skulls, what led your actions in the days leading up to the liberation of the city?” 

“Tell us about the Imperial research into the Echo.” Admiral Merlwyb added leaning forwards “give us the details on your chats with Zenos and we will consider a merciful fate.” 

“Your relationship with Zenos is of particular interest to us all.” Alphanaud added. “We understand you had special access and several private discussions with him, the detail you can provide on this – his understanding of the Echo and our forces will count in your favour.” 

Fordola snorted “and tell you the dazzling tale of how I crossed blades with your champion, the one Zenos called _friend._ ” She stole a gaze sideways as the silent figure. 

_Flicker, great billowing storm clouds amidst floating islands of green, a God screaming defiance at the sky._

“Alright.” She said more firmly. “Alright, let’s start at the beginning with this story, I’ll tell you how I got here, about Zenos, about his obsession with your champion and the Echo…I’ll tell you everything and then you can decide…”


	2. The Stoning

#  **The Stoning**

“For the benefit of the council.” Alphanaud glanced over his notes, not meeting Fordola’s eyes “We would like to start shortly after the Garlean occupation with your father’s death…” 

“You mean murder.” Fordola forced the words out, dry and harsh. It was not a question. 

Alphanaud fell silent for a moment and Rabahn waved a huge hand. “Aye, murder, lets call a spade a spade, it is what it is.” 

“Very well.” The white-haired youth twirled an idle strand of white hair idly, “I apologise; your father was a prominent tradesperson of Ala Mhigo during the occupation. He helped reorganise the city's food distribution network, he arranged lucrative contracts with the Garleans supplying tin and other raw materials in exchange for food and other basic commodities. In fact, he was one of a handful of Ala Mhigans to be granted citizenship on the third anniversary of the city's occupation in recognition of his services.” 

Alphanaud looked up at Fordola, meeting her eyes for just a moment before flinching away. “Did his murder at the hands of your fellow countrymen incite you against your own people?” He looked down again at his papers “Was it this event that solely pushed you on the path of vengeance?” 

All eyes on the table now focused on Fordola, a minute twitch of her eyes confirmed the warrior was one of the few who was not, but then – she had already seen this, hadn’t she? 

“I was born after the fall of Ala Mhigo,” she began, dredging up the half-memories and stories she had been told. “My father was a wealthy merchantman and I benefited from as good a childhood as any with a proper education from the few teachers that remained in the city. On the tenth anniversary of the Garlean occupation, my father, for his prominent position and skill was included in the dignitary list to the Imperial viceroy’s banquet…” 

\--- 

White imperial flags blazed in the sunlight as ten-year old Fordola trailed behind her parents along the city’s central boulevard. She gazed up, wide-eyed at them, having never seen so many all at once.

She was not used to walking the streets of her home city. At this time in the day she would usually be sitting in front of one of her parent’s home tutors, sometimes an imperial teaching her geography or history, on rare occasions an Ala Mhigan teaching economics or the constellations. Today however, was special. Today, she was dressed in the finest dress a young girl could wish for with rare wool imported from the exotic nation of Gridania. Her parents were likewise finely dressed and walked with a spring in their step. They were going to a banquet! 

What could possibly be more exciting? She had never been to her banquet before, but her imperial tutor had solemnly said it was a great honour and privilege. She was so proud of her mummy and daddy; she had memorised all the imperial naming conventions so as to not embarrass her parents at the table.

“Come along, Fordola!” Her mother, arms entwined with her father, had noticed her daughter was falling behind. “We mustn’t be late! The Imperial viceroy will be attending today’s banquet!” 

“All right!” Fordola waved back to them, dashing forwards to join her smiling parents, careful not to trip. She didn't want anything to ruin this perfect day.

“Father,” she smiled up at her dad as they looked down at her. “What’s Lord Gaius like? Is he nice? Are you friends?” 

His mother smiled but her father broke out in the deep hearty laughter he reserved only for his daughter. “There you go again with all your questions...”

Sometimes, late in the evening when the city was cooling in the early night sky, her father would come and visit her bedroom and tell stories about his day's work. Fordola loved these moments, work kept her father so busy that every moment with him was precious. He would talk, not just about the imperial lords (and sometimes ladies) he had struck deals with, but also the Ala Mhigan salt miners in the lochs, or the miners in Ala Gannha. Her father connected people and deals together, and for his hard work, they had all become Imperial citizens, chosen by Lord Gaius himself!

Lord Gaius was a great man, her father had explained this. Firm, but fair, and he ran the city far better than the last kings of Ala Mhigo ever had apparently. Her Ala Mhigan tutors didn't seem to know much about Lord Gaius when Fordola asked these questions, but her imperial tutors by contrast loved to tell her more about the great lord. His ‘might makes right’ philosophy, his destruction of the nine usurpers, his capture of Ala Mhigo with almost no bloodshed, a feat thought impossible. Fordola felt no loyalty to whatever Ala Mhigan had been before, the imperial tutors were far more knowledgeable and better dressed then the Ala Mhigan tutors, her parents an imperial citizen and so was she! 

  
She had been too young to go to the official citizenship ceremony, but her heart burst with pride when she had been told. Her father had explained that they were very special and had to set a good example, “after all, we’re the first of many, Fordola,” he had explained smiling at his daughter “they might not understand now...but they’ll see in time.” 

On the way to a grand banquet, Fordola did understand, they had to set an example and she waited politely for her father to wipe a tear from the corner of his laugh wrinkled eye and reply. “Lord Gaius is a great and honourable man who looks after all of Ala Mhigo.” His voice mirthful, but still serious. “He’s very busy and if we don’t hurry, we’ll miss our chance to see him.” 

Fordola understood, she had dreamed of seeing Lord Gaius for so long and she hastened after her parents along the quiet street, her mind already whirling.

If she could be a successful merchant like her father, maybe one day she would get invited to banquets like this and meet Lord Gaius? She was doing well in her lessons, and knew she would be a great trader, like her father. Then she could travel the world and strike deals, maybe one day visit Garlemald, apparently the center of the world, she could only imagine what this shining city must look like compared to Ala Mhigo. 

“Filthy tinhead-lovers...” 

Fordola was yanked from her daydream as a man walked by, eyes down and poorly dressed, his gait unsteady. She looked ahead at her parents who had also stopped, she could see her father had gone pale as a sheet where he stood. 

“Father, what did that man call us…?” Fordola asked, confused. She had not heard this term before, was it because her father traded tin, but why would that be filthy? 

Her mother looked down at her sharply but suddenly she was aware that the strange man had turned around and was now staring balefully at her parents. 

“The little tinhead-lover doesn’t know what she is eh?” His tone was mocking, and the man now stood straighter, a façade of strength had suddenly appeared as he continued ‘A traitor, sweetheart. A backstabbing bitch who’d gladly betray kith and kin to gnaw at what few scraps the Imperials deign to toss her. Like your bastard father and whore mother!’

Fordola felt her mind reel, her world shook, but she felt a flame of anger - how dare this man accuse her parents and use such…such slanderous words! “That’s not true!!” She cried, the words tumbling forth, “My parents are good people! They’ve never done anything like that!” She started at this hateful man, but she couldn't stop shaking suddenly, she couldn't face this. She turned and ran away from this hateful person, this jealous Ala Mhigan who wanted to ruin their day. 

Her eyes were blinded by tears, she gasped and panted, she needed to get away from this confusing situation and clear her mind. She turned away from the main road without really realising, continued on and then stopped, swaying and gasping for breath.

Crack! 

She flinched at the noise which cut through the haze of her mind. Her eyes swam before suddenly seeing, for the first time, a grey rock the size of her clenched fist scuttle along the ground to a stop near her. 

Feeling even more dazed and trying to make sense of it all looked up. Suddenly, around here there were a lot of other people, Ala Mhigans, dressed in rough-spun thread of all ages. 

All looking at her. 

There, in the crowd was a stooped, old woman, face dark with tan and age but her arm raised high and proud, a fist clenched around another stone, poised to throw. 

Her confused mind couldn't even form a ‘why?’ before she cringed as the rock was loosened, slashing past her right ear, burning a pain and confusion she would never forget throughout her entire life.

“Fordola!!” She heard a voice distantly shout, her father! Suddenly he hadbarrelling around the corner, a moment later she felt his arms wrap around her, embracing her in his warmth, his scent and love. 

“Traitor!” A harsh cry rang out. Suddenly more people were appearing; from side alleys, from nearby doorsteps, so many people! They all held stones, chunks of pavement and…and then the air was filled with the missiles, pelting all around them. They were raining down on her father, she could feel his body shake on impact, where was her mother, what was going on? She just wanted to be home, safe and warm. The banquet was long forgotten, everything was forgotten, except her father's arms, tight around her. 

She thought she could hear her mother shouting something in the distance but it was drowned out by the braying of the mob and the whistle of missiles cracking down on her father and the ground around them 

“Father,” she whispered so only he could hear, “I’m scared.” 

“It's all right, it's all right” her father's hoarse voice whispered back to her urgently, his arms continued to hold her tight. “They don’t understand, but they’ll see in time. They’ll see that this is the only way to survive.” 

What did he mean, why were these people still throwing rocks? She caught a glimpse of the crowd of people, fellow Ala Mhigans and her blood ran cold. They were laughing, they were smiling, they were pointing and encouraging each other, it was like a game to them. 

Suddenly, from the group a giant of a man appeared and let loose a missile the size of her head. It tumbled towards them and struck her father with a blow Fordola felt through her very heart. 

She tasted a strange metallic taste on her lips.

“Father…?” she whispered as he slumped suddenly, a red trickle ran from his head and onto Fordola. It dripped down onto her face and splashed down onto her woolen dress, soaking slowly into the fabric.

Her father fell, slumped away from her, his grip suddenly relaxed. Fordola screamed then; her world rocked, she fell to the ground beside him, why wasn’t he moving? Her mother was suddenly there, she was shaking him with Fordola; screaming for help from the guard, from anyone! Tears streamed down Fordola’s face and she shook her father's limp arm insistently “Father….Father!” 

Suddenly, another rock struck her in the waist and a jarring bolt of pain cut into her. She staggered for a second, but then the pain was suddenly distant. She was floating in a bad dream, she dropped the hand that had been her fathers and it slowly fell from her grasp. To reset limp to the red speckled ground.

She was in a haze, her mind jumbled in a haze of confusion such that she hadn't realised the rocks had now stopped and the crowd was slowly dispersed away into buildings, alleyways and shadow. The Ala Mhigan sun continued to blaze down unyielding, unpitying.

She never knew exactly how much time passed during that period. Finally, when she looked up there was a young armoured guardsman standing awkwardly over her sobbing mother who was still cradling her father’s head. Fordola felt a sudden spike of emotion, of pure anger...where had this guardsman been when they needed him?

The tears suddenly cut away, she ran forwards, unsteady but driven, clenched her right fist and smashed it into the man’s armoured waist. He probably hardly felt it, but her hand cracked and suddenly flared with such pain that Fordola gasped with the sudden clarity it gave her. Perhaps that had been what she instinctively had craved. 

The guardsman turned to look down at her, a blood stained girl with eyes ablaze and hair asken. The guardsman was young, hardly a man, his dark skin unmistakably Ala Mhigan. Fordola recoiled in white-hot pain and rage, then screamed at the man as loud as she could. “Where were you!? Why weren't you there when we needed you!?”

The guardsman was shaking his head, his eyes everywhere except on this wild girl that confronted him. His lips moved and he tried to stammer something but Fordola didn't hear it, “I hate you!” She screamed, “I hate you all!” 

She turned and almost ran directly into the fully armoured body of a Garlean officer. She fell backwards and landed sharply on her backside before looking up.

The officer held a gleaming gunblade casually in his right hand and his armoured helmet which looked down at her fully encased his head. He was eyeless behind an armoured grill, cold and in control, the sun silhouetted behind him, exuding an air of menace, but Fordola didn't care. Next to the stammering Ala Mhigan guard, this was what she wanted right now.

Without thinking she grabbed the armoured boots of the man and pressed her face against the cold metal sobbing “You’ll get them right?” She gasped between tears “I want you to kill them all!”

“Fordola!” Her mother’s words, distant and far away and she felt arms pulling her away, her mother rocking her, pleading with her but Fordola tore herself from her mother's arms.

“I want you to kill them all!” She screamed at the towering Garlean, her body throbbing with the pain and she looked down again as the tears welled in her eyes.

A moment passed where everything felt silent for a moment except her beating heart; then she felt a cold metal gauntlet on her head. She twitched her eyes up and saw the Garlean looking down at her, almost seeing the eyes behind the mask, “Aye lass,” the voice was detached from her emotion, but it spoke with steel “I’ll bring you their skulls.”

Other Garleans were now arriving on the scene bringing along some wretched Ala Mhigan guards that clearly wanted to be elsewhere. The officer turned away from Fordola and rested his gunblade casually on his shoulder before shouting loudly to the assembled men, “Section 59D men. Search every house, every alley, every street. Let's make an example of the cur’s that would attack citizens in open daylight!”

Fordola watched the man, and felt seized by a strange emotion, a burning elation. She wanted to join these men, to hunt down those that had hurt her father, to see them brought to Lord Gaius’s justice. 

To one side the Ala Mhigan guardsman still stood by her father's body, inert. Next to the Garleans strength and action, her countryman looked weak and pathetic; inpotent.

The guardsman must have felt her eyes on him because he looked up and for a moment it seemed like he would speak; but then her mother wrapped her within an unyielding, desperate embrace and suddenly Fordola’s mind registered every hurt, every pain and a shuddering flush swept over her and she staggered as consciousness gave way. 

Darkness and shadows claimed her.

\---

Fordola stopped speaking and a weighty silence descended in the courthouse, a few moments passed with a murmur of voices behind her in the galleries, maybe some of the watchers had been there, maybe some of them had thrown the stones that had set her on this path. Fordola felt no emotion at the thought, the fires being gutted within her by the champion of Eorzea. 

Kan-E-Senna spoke first, softly. “A truly regrettable incident, and it was one that led to some three hundred Ala Mhigan being rounded up on various pretences. Many were teachers, political activists and young students, most were never seen again. A few survivors escaped, and made it to our city, they told stories about loved ones torn away by Garlean men, families separated forever as the Garleans rooted out dissent, real or otherwise.”

“None of us wish to belittle your loss,” Lyse spoke up, her words carefully chosen. “I later learnt the resistance referred to this as the Oschon Massacre for the Garlean response. The people they seized had been selected in advance. Our belief is that the Garleans had been waiting for such an instigating event as a pretense for cracking down on dissidents and freethinkers of Ala Mhigo. That such an event would wear out the crounds and disperse them to allow for a crackdown. I almost wouldn't be surprised if the Garlean guard stood back and waited to make the most of this moment.”

Fordola held her tongue and hardened her heart. As a young girl she would never have believed it, she would have screamed and shouted. As a skull, she would have smashed the other women with anything to hand for daring to suggest such a thing. But as a grown woman, she knew that Lyse spoke a truth that, in her heart of hearts, she had accepted long before standing in this dock.

But by then her course was set, the realisation had simply hardened her further, a bitterness had set in, which had wormed to her heart and committed her to a new path. Her father had wanted to make the people of Ala Mhigo see, to see that the only way to survive was in partnership with the empire that brought strength and unity. She would take up his cause, but one married in strength, force and bitter work. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 was both easy to write - as I could draw and adapt from the source material directly, and hard to write - its a difficult scene to watch again and again to capture.
> 
> For a long time the story title was 'The Tragedy of Fordola rem Lupis', and the events within this chapter were some of the hardest hitting in Stormblood (in my opinion).
> 
> Thank you for reading.


	3. The Promise

#  **The Promise**

Fordola kept her head high as the whispers from the public galleries continued, the judges at the high table were momentarily huddled together. Alphanaud, his white haired head at the center of the group speaking rapidly and Fordola could see Rabahn vehemently shaking his head to whatever was being said.

  
  
She stretched her neck gently left and right, feeling some mental weight fall from her shoulders, although she knew the tough questions were still far ahead - talking about her father always caused her heart to tighten, and for anger to flush her body.

  
  
She took a deep breath, and looked again to the Warrior still seated off to one side from the council. 

The Warrior of light gave the impression of listening in to the group, although she was almost as far from them as Fordola herself was. The woman’s eyes were bright and again Fordola saw the shimmering mists of aether briefly swirling around her but then...

  
  
_ Flicker. The Warrior stood in a courtyard - around her the bodies of numerous knights of Ishgard was casually strewn about, a few cradled injuries and moaned pitifully as their life blood drained away. In front of the Warrior, stood a tall proud figure, glowing with aether and power, her own face, her own eyes, her own smile...her voice rang across to her, "everything up to now has been your story...’"as the greatsword was pulled free "..and everything after now will be mine!" _   


  
Fordola convulsed as she was pulled out of the vision. She felt a wave of nausea and looked up to see the champion of Eorzea now looking at her - was that a flicker of concern? Was it concern at Fordola’s sudden sharp gasps for breath? Or was it concern at what Fordola might have seen?

  
  
Before Fordola could organise her own thoughts on what she had seen she suddenly realised that her judges were all sat back in their respective places and Admiral Merlwyb was speaking.

  
  
“...It is not hard to imagine the murder of your father driving you to vengence.” Merlywybs flinty eyes gazed coldly at her, a hand tapping the table loudly, tap, tap, tap. “Yet you did not seek personal vengeance. Rather you pledged yourself to the Imperials, created your own personal unit to oppress your own countrymen years later. How did you get to such a twisted conclusion? Was this your vengeance?”

Fordola shook her head. She had to replace her confusion with the familiar white-hot intensity that had kept her safe all those years. It gave her the focus to do what she felt was right. The anger she had felt from that day, surrounded by her countrymen who had struck her father down…

\---

It was two bells past midday and the sun blazed down on the city streets as fourteen-year old Fordola watched the boys brawl from a safe distance.

  
  
By now, her home tutor would have reported her missing from her afternoon lessons. If Fordola’s mother was in the family house she would be beside her, but Fordola knew today her mother would be at the Imperial palace, doing whatever she could to slow down the steady collapse of her father's business which had started four years ago.

Fordola felt a sharp pang of guilt but suppressed it, she was used to that, and had been lectured accordingly numerous times.

  
  
Instead, she focused more closely on the boys below, as they savagely fought with sticks, loose pebbles and fists. This alley was often a place for pitched street battles between rival gangs of Ala Mhigan orphans on account of the crossroads between different districts. Fordola had known about this location for a while, but only last year had she found a suitable, hidden alcove where she could watch her favorite gang at work.

They were defending territory today; a rival, larger gang of youths had set down a challenge the other day - probably expecting the smaller gang to never show up, insead it seemed they had been unpleasantly surprised.

She scrutinised how the two groups wielded their makeshift weapons, how the bigger boys could be outfought by quick footwork and a sharp blow to the ankles, how the smaller group benefited from their charismatic leader. A wily boy with sandy hair called Ansfrid, a name she had overheard in the weeks beforehand. 

  
  
He fought at the front line, toe to toe, fist to fist with another gangly, snarling boy. Both boys had long since cast aside their broken sticks to grapple at close range as the other members of each respective gang fought at a safe distance.

  
  
Fordola watched closely, her mind repeating Ansfrid’s moves, how he carefully conserved his energy bobbing and weaving from side to side before landing a powerful haymaker to the other youths face. The attacker fell, stunned and bloodied and Ansfrid howled with victory.

  
  
The other gang members saw it and suddenly broke off in confusion, even as Ansfrid’s gang pushed forwards with renewed energy. 

The first boy threw away his stick and fled down the alley, followed by the others in short order. The gang leader was trying to get up off the ground and Fordola could hear him calling out to his fellow, but then the victorious boys had leapt on him and drove him to the ground, pummeling the lad repeatedly. Fordola watched on impassively, it was an important lesson she had observed. The first to flee would usually live, the last to fight would usually fall.

Eventually, Ansfrid hauled a few of his troops off the thoroughly beaten youth and after a moment the lad staggered off, back after his retreating gang members. Fordola felt a half smile curl on their lips as she saw the victorious gang gather around Ansfrid, who was all smiles and grins, slapping his boys on the back, checking injuries and seeming to be everywhere at once.

Fordola waited a few more moments, then slid off the roof and down the other side of the alley joining one of the city's outer boulevards, heading back towards the wealthy side of the Ala Mhigan Quarter.

She made sure to keep to the side of the street, eyes cast down, unassuming, unthreatening. The model, subjected Ala Mhigan. To aid in this disguise she was dressed extremely plainly (not that she wore dresses these days) with plain, beige trousers and a baggy grey top that masked what slender curves she had; all the better to help her pass unseen. 

A squad of Imperial troops marched smartly by, the squad leader's helmet turning left and right at the nearby civilians, his eyes sliding right over Fordola as she walked carefully in the other direction. 

Ala Mhigo was slowly changing, its streets were becoming more lively, more shops were opening, more jobs were being created. There was new money flowing into the city with the construction work far to the West on the new Baelsar’s Wall, fevered rumours of an offensive led by Lord  Gaius himself into Ivalice itself. 

  
  
Despite herself Fordola shivered with the decision she had years ago, a decision she would have to follow through on soon.   


She rounded a corner onto a long alleyway that would take her to the back of the family house, from there she could climb the back wall and slip into her room with nobody the wiser.

Now out of the main view of the street she started to move her feet akin to some of the courtly dances she had learnt as a young girl, but moderated with hand movements as if swishing a blade left and right. She felt her brow furrow and she cut an invisible blade through an enemy, pivoted left and brought it crashing down…

“Hey watch it!” A large man had been loitering unseen outside a doorway and she had almost crashed into him.

“Sorry.” Fordola muttered, turning back and walking swiftly on, but then she heard footsteps following her. She walked faster, head down, trying to ignore suddenly how quiet the rest of the ally was, and how she could only hear her footsteps and the footsteps of those behind her, and her breath, suddenly tight against her chest.

Suddenly, a hulking roegadyn was in front of her, arms across a chest as broad as Fordola was tall. She stopped and hesitated, behind her the footsteps were close.

“Are you lost little one?” The roegadyn was shabbily dressed but his eyes were sharp and roved up and down Fordola, weighing her up and Fordola made the choice without a moment's pause.

On either side were low one story shabby houses, she leapt atop a nearby barral and pulled herself onto the low hanging roof. She heard movement behind her in the alleyway and without pausing to look started to run across the rooftops not looking back.

Further and further she ran, suddenly exalting in her speed. She cleared the gap between another side-street and kept going, starting to slowly circle back in the right direction...another gap over an alley, she tensed to jump...and stumbled.

She fell heavily into the alleyway with a crash, her arms sprawled into thankfully soft, rarely trodden ground.

She groaned, feeling aches and scrapes in her hands and legs, her mother would be in no doubt now as to her activities. She scrambled up as quickly as she could and suddenly found herself face to face with a recognisable face.

Ainsfrid stood at the front of his gang, several of his boys (and at least one girl she had mistaken for a boy at a distance) were whispering and looking up at the roof from which Fordola had fell, but Ainsfrid suddenly extended a hand to Fordola, which she took with only a second's hesitation. “Are you alright?” He asked, mouth twisted in wry amusement.    


“I’m fine” Fordola nodded back, more curt than she had meant. She looked behind Ainsfrid, at the injuries on the other gang members. “Better than some of them.” 

“Them?” Ainsfrid laughed casually, his young eyes sparkling with life. Close up, he was probably only a little younger than Fordola, maybe eleven or twelve? His hair was more bleached blond then sandy at closer inspection, the hair was plastered on a scrawny body clad in roughspun, patchworked cloth like the rest of them. “Yeah, we’re all good, got to look out for ourselves in this city.” He spat to one side in a sudden motion. “Lots of people have it in for the Ala Mhigan Skulls.”

“The Ala Mhigan Skulls?” Fordola gave a mirthless chuckle, the adrenaline within her starting to ebb, “is that what you call yourselves?”

  
  
“What of it?” The youth replied, suddenly looking almost petulant. “It's a good name, makes other groups think twice before coming into our territory.

  
Fordola chuckled again and the boy seized the moment to start regaling her with tales of the group's bravery, of epic clashes with other neighbouring groups. Fordola went along with it, interested to finally put a name to each of the groups faces; Hrudolf, the largest boy of the gang who knew every street in Ala Mhigo. Emelin, one of the few who was not an orphan, with a mother that worked at a nearby soup kitchen where many of them ate and rested. Mari, a fierce tomboy, was deadly with a thrown rock and a dozen other names and faces were introduced to her by the eager Ansfrid. 

“It sounds like you’ve been lucky for a long time.” Fordola finally managed as the group walked along, all plans to return to her family house forgotten as Ansfrid’s torrent of information finally subsided.

  
“Yeah we’ve been lucky alright!” Ansfrid grinned slapping Hrudolf heartily on the back, “I mean, this city has given us nothing, so I guess so long as we stay lucky, we can get by.”

“I once read about a general who said he would rather have lucky soldiers then good ones,” Fordola laughed along with the others, already feeling at home with the group.

“I’d rather be a well fed general instead,” Mari quipped, playing to the rest of the group who all nodded along.

“So where are you from Fordola?” Ansfrid asked quizzically. “You an orphan as well? Want to become part of the Ala Mhigan Skulls?”

“No!” Fordola said, too quickly and she saw the group watching her closely. Suddenly Ainsfrid’s stories made more sense as a recruitment pep talk. “Well, my father...my father was murdered...but I have a place to live with my mother not far from here…”

Ah…” Ainsfrid nodded, slowing as the group entered a deserted clearing behind some derelict, abandoned buildings, a single withered tree providing some limited shade. “Well, I never knew my parents, and to be fair most of us here don’t. Garleans got some, others just upped and left the city, but at least we have each-other, we’ll manage.” He let out a forced laugh and grinned, his eyes casting around, looking for something. “Even if you have a place and don’t want to join us…” he moved off towards the tree and picked up two loose sticks, withered but firm. “You look like you could be good in a fight, how about if I beat you...you come and hang out with us again?”

  
  
Fordola snorted “I’m not going to fight you!” But she took the offered stick and swished it back and forth as the rest of the group moved back into a loose circle around them.

  
  
“I think you will!” Ainsfrid laughed, holding his stick out in front of him and tensing to strike, eyes alight with the eagerness of battle.

  
  
Fordola realised her blood was pumping with a similar eagerness. Before her fathers murder, she had learned courtly dances, but after his death she had regularly snuck out of house to either watch the Imperial army train near the palace, or the gangs fight in the city. At night, after the last candle had been blown out, she would get out of bed and fight the shadows for hours, putting into practice what she had learnt. 

  
  
Ainsfrid suddenly leapt forward, stick raised high to strike and Fordola flowed like water to one side, brought her stick down and swished it out, sharply, in a textbook fast blade strike for Ainsfrid’s side.   


  
The boy managed to twist around in time to block, the two sticks ringing off each other, surprise obvious in his face but then Fordola was slicing forwards and his balance was off. He stepped back, stumbled and Fordola kicked out and he fell heavily to the dusty ground.

  
  
Fordola grinned and lowered the stick to his cheek briefly, before throwing it casually to one side and profiting her hand to him.

  
  
Ainsfrid suddenly grinned as the rest of the group moved forwards to join them. There were shouts of admiration from a few and the other girl of the group, Mari, was positively hooting with laughter.

  
  
After the moment had run its course and Fordola had ruefully accepted a few slaps on the back of her own, Ansfrid heartily slapped her on the back himself. “Well now I’m really annoyed I can’t get you to join us!”

“I can’t join your group...because I’ve made a promise to join the Imperial army.” The words tumbled out of Fordola suddenly and a silence fell among the group. Fordola crossed her arms and stared evenly around at them all, daring them to challenge her. 

Ansfrid spluttered his smile crinkled into a frown. “Really? Why on earth would you do that? You’re just a girl!”

  
  
“Ain’t got nothing to do with it!” Mari shouted out but Fordola had stood up and idly kicked at the withered tree while the others looked on.

“This city is rotten.” She finally breathed out, through gritted teeth remembering the rocks, the laughter, the hate. “The Garleans look down on us, we’re a beaten people, we’re almost useless, they call us savages to our faces.”

  
  
“Aye that they do.” It was Emelin that spoke, sat down on the ground, listening intently. “What of it?”

Fordola turned away from the tree to look at the group “Don’t you see? The Garleans are eventually going to take over the last parts of the world, it's inevitable. When they do that, where will our city be? Our people, we’re nothing to them - we have to prove ourselves, show that we are a proud people, capable of matching them on the field - of excelling, to be admitted as equal citizens.”

“So you want to be a citizen?” Hrudolf leaned back, his boyish eyes scrunched in thought. “Twenty years in the imperial army will get you citizenship, twenty-five a pension; overheard some tinheads trying to drum up support on the main street, not many takers.”

“No, I don't just want to be a citizen.” Fordola was already a citizen, her mother and father had become citizens and so had she, but she had no wish to tell them this. “I’ve made a promise to make a difference, make it so that Ala Mhigans stand alongside the Imperials over the whole world, only way I can make that promise come true is in the Imperial Army. Represent our city, fight for the Garleans and for us, show us for the proud Warriors they say we once were.” She just managed to keep the sudden bile out of her throat. 

She looked at the group, there was a guarded expression in some of their eyes, but she was surprised to not hear any arguments thrown back at her.

Ansfrid chuckled, the boy had a glint in his eye “I’ve often thought about running off to join the Imperial army myself, haven't I talked about it guys?”

The mood suddenly changed and suddenly the group was smiling and nodding, Fordola felt her shoulders relaxed as Ansfrid slapped Hrudolf on the back for good measure. “Really?” She asked, it seemed hard to believe.

“Sure!” Ansfrid grinned “A bed, food, see the world, beats the streets right?” 

“We’d always be the Ala Mhigan Skulls though,” Hrudolf nodded around the others “We’d stick together, always be a team.”

“Aye!” Ansfried laughed loudly and punched the air in glee, “Well that's our promise to you, you’re too young to join the army yet, so if you stick with us and we’ll stick with you if you still join in a few years, we’ll all watch each other's backs.”

“Doubt they’d ever take any of us anyway!” Mari laughed before elbowing Hrudolf sharply in the stomach. “Bunch of scrawny castouts!

Fordola laughed heartily along with the others as Hrudolf grabbed his stomach in mock pain.

It was strange, but for the first time in years she suddenly felt herself part of something bigger. Maybe it was partly because she had watched the group for so long, maybe it was because she had voiced her intent and suddenly taken a step forward on her path. Maybe it was simply because, for the first time in many years, she had what she could maybe call friends.

\---

“Get to the point!!” Rabuan struck the council table loudly, a crashing thud that broke Fordola’s recitation. “You joined a gang on the streets of Ala Mhigo, we get it! Plenty of those, lots of orphans running around. We would get a trickle into Ul-Dar that eventually dried up a few years after the occupation. So you signed up to the Imperial Army, we don’t need to hear everything in between.”   
  


“Ansfrid...Hrudolf, Emelin…” Lyse was looking down. “You spoke those names before, at Castrum Abania...”

“Aye”, Fordola remained composed, the bitterness back in her voice. “I started to join the group more regularly, eventually I spent more time on the streets with them than I did at home. My mother was hardly present, my tutors stopped coming as the family money dried up. The gang was all I lived for then. At first Ansfred tried to teach me, but as time went on, I taught all of them. I had the benefits of a full education and I had a vision. They just talked about joining the army in the same way all youths at some point in their life do, but I actually meant it when I said it. As the years slipped by and our numbers grew, Ansfred and the others started to trust me more and more and at some point, it was me giving the orders, and Ansfred standing at my side making sure they were done.” She paused for a moment, aware that she was monologuing, but when nobody interjected she plunged on.

  
  
“I pushed them forwards, I harangued them to greater scraps with other groups, hardening them as we punished those that stood against us. I kept telling them - when we turn sixteen, we can enlist, we have to be ready for that. We crushed the other child gangs of Ala Mhigo, we stole, we peddled, we took on more lost boys and girls, and finally, when I turned 16, I enlisted...the others were still a bit younger but turned out the Garleans didn't care. They looked us up and down, got a scribble from us and we were in the army.” 

  
  
“Your mother didn't try to stop you?” Alphanud spoke up. “She didn't warn you where this could lead?”

  
  
“Course she did.” Fordola snorted. “First time I think we spoke that year was when I told her I was leaving that day for the training camp. I don’t think she heard me and I was out of the door with my closest friends while the rest went on ahead. We were half way out of the city before she chased us down.”

\---   
  


“Fordola please!” Her mother cried behind them, hysteria in her voice. “You already have citizenship, why would you want to become a soldier!?”

Next to her, Ansfrid stiffened but said nothing, Fordola turned and her mother suddenly registered the new Imperial tattoos covering half of her daughters face, stamping her determination for all to be seen and her mother recoiled in horror. “Oh gods, what have you done to your face!?”

“Forgotten it already have you?” Fordola looked at her mother in contempt. At the back of her brain some part of her was shouting, but the rest of her was icy rage. Her mother had faded since her father's death, she rarely spoke about him, she was subservient around the Imperials and fellow citizens - she had retreated into grief and Fordola could not accept this. “I’m honouring Father’s memory!” The words tumbled from her mouth suddenly. 

“By telling the world that you’re no better than a common savage!?” Her mother replied in equal bitterness, her withered fists beating against her legs impotently. 

“Am I, though, Mother?” Fordola grinned and it was a terrible grin to behold. “Are any of us?”

“Can’t you see?” Fordola continued, and this was more to her friends then her mother. “Citizenship means nothing to them. If you're not a pureblood Garlean, you’re no different from any other savage.” She pounded her fist into her open hand, the same fist that had broken on that day day her father was murdered, the fist that would make things right through strength. “I’ll play the part. I’ll join the legion and I’ll make them respect me. And when the mob sees that, they’ll think twice before throwing their stones.”

She turned to her new brothers and sisters, “Ansfrid, Hrudolf, Emelin. It’s time!”

They all nodded as one, they had followed her this far and she knew they had her back and she had theirs. “It’ll be hard. Humiliating.” She continued. “They’ll try to break us - send us crawling back to our ‘own kind.’ But we won’t no matter what. We’ll bleed for them - die for them if we have to. We’ll do whatever it takes to be free!” 

They thrust their fists together and saluted in the time honoured gang tradition, hand to their faces. Firm in their belief, firm in their brotherhood, firm in their strength. 

Forgotten and already far behind, her mother wept in despair as Fordola and her kin walked off. It was the last time she would ever see her daughter. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a struggle, I wanted to introduce and better flesh out Fordola's supporting Skulls (who we will be seeing a lot more of) and this chapter went through a number of re-writes. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, chapter 4 will be published very soon. Chapter 5 onward takes place alongside the events of Stormblood itself.


	4. The Skulls

#  **The Skulls**

_Flicker, ‘REJOICE!’ The crash of thunder as the shadow came crashing down. Blotting out the sky._

_  
__  
_Fordola bit her lip once more as the sensation of nausea quickly passed. She needed to stop letting her eyes wander to the Warrior of Light off to one side.

Her artificial Echo seemed particularly active today, but at least the visions so far had been short flickers of the past; rather than the extended ‘true’ visions she had seen on occasion. 

In front of her, the judges sat waiting. Admiral Merlwyb was still tapping her finger on the table, Rabuan had his broad arms folded before him. Alphanuad was glancing at Admiral Merlwyb’s finger with a look of vexed frustration and the seedseer appeared to have closed her eyes and escaped into serene thought.

  
  
Lyse however was intently focusing her attention on Fordola still. “So you and your gang went on the Imperial training program, and came back as the Crania Lupi?’

  
  
“Something like that.” Fordola shrugged, “perhaps a trifle more complicated.” 

“Paraphrase then.” Rabaun snorted, guestering with one hand, “as _fascinating_ as this all is, I want to start hearing about the tyrant, Zenos.”

  
  
“What does it matter?” Fordola bit back, feeling the chains around her hands chaff as she shook each leg to keep them awake. “He’s dead. I don’t see why his sordid story is of interest to you and how it affects your judgement of me?”

  
  
Fordola caught a slight movement out of the corner of her eye, the Warrior of Light had shifted slightly. Fordola was struck suddenly by the thought that the other woman was deeply troubled by something, but before the thought could walk to its logical conclusion, Lyse had spoken up again firmly. “No, first I want to hear about the moment your people truly became the skulls, the day of your return to Ala Mhigo some two years later.”

  
  
“I bet you’ve been waiting to ask that.” Fordola said, lips twisted, she knew this had been coming. “It's a nice bloody little story however I tell it.”

  
  
“Before that.” The seedseer suddenly spoke up, killing the rekindling animosity. “When you and your compatriots were recruited, was this specifically targeting Ala Mhigans?”

  
  
“Yes,” Fordola grunted, thinking back. “The recruitment drive was under the request of the then viceroy, Lord Gaius. Although Ala Mhigo was settled, he was wary of the increasing reports of unrest in neighbouring Eorzea. He wanted to more closely bind the people of Ala Mhigo to the Empire; get us in a state where we were fit to police and govern ourselves so Imperial manpower could be shifted to the new Eorzean campaign.”

  
  
“And you knew this how?” Alphanaud piqued up, the youth cocking his head to one side thoughtfully.

  
  
“Alright. I don’t,” Fordola snorted in derision. “But I can put two and two together. Around 600 Ala Mhigans took up the offer and relocated to Castrum Sandoval. It's around a 100 malm’s north of here, not too far from Werlyt and it was a wretched base if there ever was one. Most of the 600 were castouts, vagrants and the overly young. My Skulls made up a third of the number, but by the end of the next moon, we’d established ourselves as the group to be part of, to obey.”

  
  
“How did you go about that?” Alphanud asked, although Fordola thought he already knew her answer.

  
  
“Depended on the person…” She said, drawing him on a bit before flashing him a mirthless grin. “Some came willingly to a group with organisation and leadership; many agreed with my vision, a few needed persuading, by firmer needs if warranted."

  
  
“And the training itself?” Lyse asked, ignoring the exchange.

  
  
“Tough.” Fordola switched her gaze back to the intensely staring women. “A fair few dropped out, doubt they ever made it back. A few died in accidents, the Garleans didn't care for us in the slightest. But over the two years of training we bonded as a unit, we toughened up, and my skulls were a tough bunch beforehand, even the Garleans accepted that. Finally we were sent home...fierce to make a difference and show the quality of Ala Mhigans. We had news that Lord Gaius was on the front lines in Eorzea, that we were to march to Ala Mhigo where he would review us, and award me the title of ‘Rem’, a formal commander of the unit…but then…”

  
  
Rabuan chuckled, his dark eyes glinted. “I suspect you were quite disappointed to hear the news of the Black Wolf's demise...”

  
  
“In some ways.” Fordola shrugged, but a kergal of bitterness remained. “My father had always looked up to him and it would have been...interesting to meet him. I suspect he was pleased to fall in combat, he always believed might made right, after all.” She looked directly at the Warrior of Light who was leaning forwards. “Wouldn't be surprised if he tried to recruit you actually. He always wanted strong people beside him, similar to Lord Zenos really.”

  
  
 _Flicker, a desert of bleached sand. A dark tanned man stood before her brandishing a gunblade, on his jacket were strange masks, glowing in the light_ …

  
  
Fordola felt the nausea grip her again, what was that!?

  
  
“Well?” Lyse asked, her cheeks flushed. “What was it like returning to your home city and killing countless unarmed civilians in the same day!?”

  
  
Fordola paused for a moment, aware of how Lyse and Rabuans eyes were burning into her… it was hardly surprising considering the shared heritage the three of them had.

  
  
“We had marched for five days from Castrum Sandoval back to Ala Mhigo…” Fordola said. Remembering the new armour they walked home in, the gleaming weapons at their side. “Near enough 500 of us, the new Crani Lupi, the wolf's skulls named for our recently dead patron...accompanied by another 20 or 30 imperials minders. Finally, near the end of the fifth day we reached the banks of Loch Seid and the city came into view. We had heard the news from other tinheads on the march, imperial forces streaming out of Eorzea and trying to garrison Baelsar’s wall, the Ala Mhigo resistance had put the city in disarray with much of the garrison deployed in the surrounding towns and villages...we knew we were coming back to chaos, but we didn't realise how bad it would be.”

\---

The sun was low in the sky as a small Imperial airship approached the marching column of the Crani Lupi. Weapons at their side, heads held high, a cloud of dust stamped up in their wake. Their pace had quicked as the walls of distant Ala Mhigo became visible across Loch Seid; but now as the airship approached, they could clearly see the black smoke clouds clinging heavily over the city.

  
  
Fordola raised her right gauntlet in a fist and she heard her troops stopping. A murmur of buzzed conversation began among them as they properly took in the scene, and wondered what they were coming home to.

The airship came lower and gracefully settled down on the ground slightly ahead of the column. Fordola turned to her captains close behind her, “Emelin.” She started with the red-haired youth, his eyes filled with trepidation but he snapped smartly to attention. “Break out the troops for a quick rest, issue a double water ration and any quick vittles to hand. I don’t think any of us will be eating anytime soon in the city.”

  
  
As Emelin stepped smartly away and returned to the other men and (the few) women of the troop she turned her attention to dark skinner Hrudolf, slender Mari and her second-in-command, Ansfrid. “Rest of you, with me - let's see if we can find out what's going on.”

  
  
They fell in behind her as she approached the airship. Its ramp had been lowered and a squad of imperial troops decamped from within the craft. A moment later a portly, white haired man strode down the ramp. 

He was in a military dress uniform and a row of medals Fordola didn't recognise stretched across his chest. A Garlean third eye gleamed between his bushy eyebrows, a pureblood son of Garlemand.

  
  
The man reached the bottom of the ramp and paused theatrically before looking up at Fordola and her captains. His dark eyes scrutinized them with obvious dislike, a weathered hand idly scratched the white whiskers on his face. Fordola placed him around thrice her age and immediately decided this was a man she would delight in watching crawl through the muds of Castrum Sandoval while under live fire as she had many times over the past two years.

  
Somewhat unsure of the correct protocol, but determined to show the Garlean they could observe niceties she flung an Imperial salute briskly which was imitated by her comrades. “Fordola rem Lipis of the Crani Lupi.” She announced smartly.

  
  
The Garlean cocked his head and half waved a hand absently back at her. “Mattenix sas Vandiatius, acting viceroy of the Imperial city of Ala Mhigo.” His voice was rich in Garlean class, yet dry and weathered like the sands of Ala Mhigo. He paused and looked behind Fordola, at the troops behind breaking out water and food rations. “Have you already ordered your...troops, to stand down...tribune?”

  
  
Fordola stood her ground and looked evenly back at the other man. “It seemed prudent, I didn't know we were about to receive a...ranking officer _sir_.” She applied just the right amount of insolence to the word. Clearly niceties were a waste of time.

  
  
Mattenix stared back at her balefully as the Garlean guards close by the airship whispered between themselves. Fordola had no doubt that beneath the helmets, the Garlean troops would have faces twisted in contempt for her and her own.

  
  
After the silence had almost reached an unbearable length. Mattenix spoke again, “I am here to give you direct orders tribune, which I expect you and your...countrymen to follow.” He gestured back towards the smoke clouds covering Ala Mhigo. “News of the collapse on the Eorzean front and the death of Lord Gaius has led to a resurgence in terrorist actions across the region. With much of the garrison dispatched to pacify neighbouring areas and hold the wall - the resistance has begun openly inciting riots and property damage within the city. I need you and yours to bring order to chaos.”

  
  
Fordola had already guessed as much, and she prompted Mattenix accordingly. “What is the current state of the garrison within the city?”

  
  
The acting viceroy shrugged expansively. “I have pulled most of the troops back to the palace walls or the city barracks with orders to kill any intruders. We had expected your arrival a little earlier and now require your assistance in quelling the riots.”

  
  
“If parts of the city are ablaze..” Fordola gestured behind Mittenix to the city for emphasis. “We will need more than the 500 behind me, we will need the troops within the palace and barracks to sally forth as we move in, and pincer any resistors more effectively.”

  
  
“I don’t think so tribune.” Mattenix coughed dryly, his expression droll. “If the mobs seize a chance to storm past my men and into the palace they will prove impossible to extract, I expect you and your band of skulls to live up to your name. Or are you going to shirk from duty like the rest of the savages?”

  
  
Ansfrid bristled next to her and Fordola shot him a warning glare before favouring Mattenix with a cold smile. “We will do what we can, m’lord.” She twitched a bow, applying slightly more than the safe amount of contempt to her tone.

  
  
Mattenix frowned, before swishing away and moving back to the airship ramp. There he paused and turned back, raising his voice over the dim of the engine starting up. “By sundown a fleet of airships from the Eorzean front are expected to be here. I have tasked them with razing any rebellious district that has not submitted by cannonfire, I would advise you move quickly lest you wish to see the wholesale slaughter of your countrymen, and the levelling of a significant part of your city.” With that, he vanished into the airship as the other imperials moved up the ramp after him.

  
Fordola turned back to her commanders, hardening her heart for what was to come. Mari in particular looked quite agitated, flicking a switchblade idly around in one hand. “That's why he wants to keep his Garleans in the palace and the barracks.” Her tone was outraged and directed at the departing airship. “So they can stay safe while gunships raze the city!”

  
  
Emelin nodded along with Mari’s words, but was otherwise stony faced, his eyes impossible to read. Ansfrid just looked worried, still looking back at the city which the airship had begun to return to, “What now captain?” He spoke for all of them.

  
  
Fordola clenched her fists. “Form up the troops into columns! Breaks over! We march on Ala Mhigo!”

  
\---

The sun had finally dipped below the sky as the Crani Lupi marched in through the open city gates following a few forward scouts. On either side of the boulevard Fordola was aware of eyes watching them. Frightened civilians staying out of sight, or malcontents waiting for an opportunity to sink an arrow in her? She willed herself to remain calm, and set a commanding example to the skulls marching behind her.

Fordola led from the front, her hand loosely on the hilt of her sword, eyes constantly darting left and right. Just behind her, Ansfrid, Mari and Hrudolf each walked at the front of their respective columns of troops, each group 100 strong in rows of four. 

The vast majority of her fighting men and women wore a mishmash of armour, the only colour on most were the scarfs of distinct orange they wore (a personal touch of Emelin’s, to better distinguish their own). Most troops carried a broad shield weighing 16 ponzes and a curved blade of steel at their side and a simple wooden spear on their back.

The Garleans had not seen fit to give them access to any imperial technology, no gunblades or machina was to be seen on the Crani Lupi. Fordola had managed to turn this into a boon, encouraging her troops on how they had no need of ‘high Garlean technology’ to fight, and win.

  
Marching behind the three columns, Emelin brought up a final group that advanced in line, followed in turn by the remaining skulls. A mix of archers, and a few self taught thaumaturge’s, conjurers and cavalry; not that they had the chocobos to ride. They advanced in loose groups behind the more organised columns, muttering grimly to each other.

  
Fordola marched her troops rapidly towards the heart of the city, where the flames burned brightest. The streets were still eerily quiet but as they advanced, a background noise intensified, the rubble strewn on the streets increased and Fordola buried her misgivings more and more so.

A scout suddenly darted out of the shadows and moved up to Fordola, confirming the royal palace was encircled by large groups and barricades on all the main roads. The largest group of which was outside the main entrance that they were advancing on. The scout estimated at least 3,000 civilians, some armed, had gathered there.

However, as she digested this news the background noise grew louder. Back towards the main square a mass of people were advancing, many holding flaming torches and all were chanting. 

“Garleans, out! Garleans out! Garleans out!!” The shout was filled with loathing and hatred and in a few short moments, Fordola realised, this mob would be upon them.

She turned to her men and the watching captains, ‘Form a shield wall!!’ She shouted loudly, “Shields up front, spears behind, stand ready!!”

Her orders were relayed by the captains and the skulls fanned out from columns into rows running from street end to end. The city boulevard was wide, and it took many men to form a solid wall, with a row behind holding spears ready. The irregulars fanning out behind, nocking arrows to bows in preparation.

Fordola turned back to the advancing mob as Mari and Hrudolf moved up to her. The latter carried a razor sharp glaive, the former, a multitude of knives buried in belts crisscrossing her slender frame. Fordola knew she could count on both of them next to her, as she had many times during the brutal training.

Even with her heart steeled to action, she felt her heart start thudding relentlessly. The mob seemed thousands strong, of every age and race it seemed in Eorzea. In the seething mass and dark light it was hard to pick out the odd glinting weapon or what passed for leaders and prime agitators. Time to identify this was not to be had, even as the mass of people slowed as the vanguard of the group spotted the newly formed shield wall across the road before them. 

“People of Ala Mhigo!!” Fordola projected her voice as loud as she could at the mob, knowing that only the front most people could possibly hear you. “Go back to your homes and disperse. Garlean reinforcements are coming. Restore law and order so that our city will survive the coming storm!"

There was a moment of relative silence between the two groups, yet the number of protestors continued to back up down the street, Gods! There were so many of them! Fordola thought.

Suddenly a dark-skinned man pushed his way through the front group of the crowd and began advancing towards Fordola.

Acting partly on impulse Fordola slowly drew her sword and the man stopped a dozen paces away.

“GARLEANS OUT!” A female voice rang out from somewhere in the crowd and the mob took it up, chanting itself into a frenzy, “Garleans out, Garleans out, Garleans out!!!!’ A few rocks now clattered to the ground near Fordola, but she held her ground.

The man at the front raised a hand, and after a few moments the chant died down as he turned to Fordola.

He was perhaps in his mid thirties and carried no visible weapon that Fordola could see. His hair was plaited on either side of his angular face. His eyes blazed passionately as a man’s would, when he had discovered his true calling.

  
“Are you not sons and daughters of Ala Mhigo!?” The man roared, pointing accusingly at Fordola, and then sweeping his hand across the skulls behind her. “Yet you stand before her people. A tool of the Garlean oppression!!”

“Go home kinsmen!” Fordola shouted back, keeping her sword level. “Go home to your family while you still can.”

“You’re no kinsmen of mine!’’ The man shouted angrily and spat defiantly on the ground to the side. ‘I am Meffrid Noward, of the Ala Mhigan resistance and I say NOW is the time to cast the Garleans out!’ The mob behind brayed and cheered and a few more rocks fell closer, several bouncing loudly off the shield wall behind her.

“A fleet of Garlean airships is coming!” Fordola gambled, staring directly at Meffrid even as her body itched for violence, to be done with this charade. “If you do not disperse, you will all be slaughtered from the sky. Don’t make us run you off the streets!.”

Meffrid was about to say something when suddenly a barbed arrow flew out from somewhere in the mob behind. It bit into the ground near Fordola’s feet and she brought her small round shield around, eyes searching the mob even as the people roared in approval.

“Disperse now!!” She shouted once more, as her troops levelled spears and shifted shields. Part of her noticed that Meffrid had turned back to the mob and was waving his hands back at them, as if to ward them back. 

Whatever his intentions were, they failed. 

Several more barbed arrows flew out of the smoke-filled night. From buildings or within the crowd, Fordola would never know. Two bit into the ground in front of Fordola, and a third tinged against her shield but then she heard a gurgle next to her and a horrified cry from Hrudolf.

She turned. As if in slow motion. All the noise suddenly filtered out.

Mari was tottering on her feet. An arrow buried deep in her throat, blood was gurgling out and her hands were scrabbling at the wooden shaft, as if trying to tug it out.

Fordola cried out. A meaningless animal cry. As the younger woman fell to the ground and spasmed once, twice...and then fell still. She was not even 18. 

An enraged cry went up from the skulls. Mari was well liked among the troops; a talented bard, pretty, always ready with a good joke and respected for holding up as well as the men she led. Fordola felt the cold anger cover her body. Her sword arm began shaking as suddenly more rocks were being thrown at her. She turned back to the mob to cut through Meffrid only to see that the resistance leader was pushing his way back into the crowd.

With her blood pounding she smashed her shield against a rock aimed at her face. She then raised her blade high; “Forward skulls!” she shouted, “No quarter!”

She charged at the mob, as behind her the shield wall disintegrated and swords and spears were pulled forth as the skulls spilled after her.

Hrudolf alone remained, the glaive dropped as he graddled Mari’s body in his broad arms as the skulls spilled past him on both sides.

The mob recoiled before them as Fordola drove towards it. Fear suddenly replaced the hatred that had been burning in their eyes, but then she was among them, smashing her shield left and right - into weapons, into limbs, into faces flickering in the shadows. These weren't people. They were animals! Animals that threw stones like the animals that had murdered her father!

Her vision clouded over. To those that stood before her, she was a wild thing. Lips pulled back in a death snarl; teeth bared, her sword now swinging freely and brutally cutting any resistance, real or imagined aside. The other skulls now battered into the crush of people and the mob shattered; recoiling before the onslaught. Suddenly they were breaking and pushing, shoving backwards but unable to move against the press of bodies behind. It was pandemonium. The stench of blood and smoke filled the air as Fordola hacked left and right, snarling in a blood frenzy...

\---

“Silence!!“ Raubahn’s voice cut through the building noise in the courtroom. His eyes simmered as he gazed balefully back at Fordola. “At least my fellow council members can see how you got the moniker, _butcher_.“ He spat the word out. ‘‘For what you did to your own people...you deserve nothing less than the hangman's noose.“

“General!“ Alphanauds voice sharply cut through the air. “Hold from making such rash statements. We are better than the Garleans. We will hear a full account and make a fair decision!” 

Raubahn snorted derisively and sat back. Admiral Merlywb turned to Lyse, her normally stoic features betrayed by furrowed eyebrows. “How many were killed that night?” She asked.

Lyse allowed a moment to look accusingly at Fordola, before turning back to the admiral and speaking loudly for all to hear. “Meffrid told me once...over 550 people lost their lives, three times that many were injured - many in the crush of the crowd.” She turned back to Fordola and her gaze hardened again. “I’m sure Meffrid never meant for there to be bloodshed between kinspeople, in fact I remember how angry he was that events went the way they did.” Her eyes narrowed again. “He would probably make a great witness to the moment, if you hadn't killed him a year later in your next encounter.”

Fordola met the woman's gaze cooly. “Regime change can only be made with violence, if it's not in the establishment of a new order it will be in the follow up that comes afterwards. He would have that out if he had succeeded.” She saw Lyse was about to speak up again and Fordola spoke quicker now. “Mayhaps we did go too far that night...but when the Garlean airships finally circled the city there were no targets for them to fire down on, no city sections to level. Everyone had fled back to their homes and my men that weren't hurt were patrolling the streets with the imperial garrison when it finally emerged.”

“How many of your own men were injured or killed that night?” Kan-E-Senna asked.

“In addition to Mari, a further four of mine were killed.” Fordola remarked gruffly. “Maybe 40 or so had some injuries. Few of the mob were armed in the end, most were tagalongs and far from being a full uprising, it was more of a popular protest that got out of hand. Maybe Mattenix realised this afterwards. For all his blatant Garlean superiority he was an effective acting viceroy. Once the dead had been swept from the streets he set up regular city patrols, arranged for the damaged areas of the city to be quickly repaired and a week later it was almost like nothing had happened.’’ She laughed bitterly now. “I think it was because the Garleans and the people could be united in mutual hatred and blame of me and mine.

Silence descended on the courthouse, a silence that was eventually broken by Alphanauds prim tones. “So the people were crushed and cowed again, and this Mattenix remained as the acting viceroy until the arrival of Zenos?

  
“Aye,” Fordola nodded. “The year following our return, I kept most of my people out of the city. Any hope of integrating with our people and being an example of Garlean/Ala Mhigo cooperation as Lord Gaius had wanted was broken that first day forever. We were spat at, cursed, despised and feared by our own people. While the Garleans under Mattenix used us like dogs; sending us out into the deserts on long patrols, flushing out resistance camps with scant Garlean support.”

“Did you visit your family house? Did you see your mother?” Kan-E-Senna suddenly asked and Fordola, although thrown for a moment at the strange question, slowly then nodded back to her.

“Aye, just once.” She began haltingly. “The house had been cleared out by the family debtors. My mother had died the year before, never got a proper answer what it was from.” The words came easier now, her heart felt nothing. “I barracked up in the palace servants quarters to be at the Garleans beck and call when needed. Knocking down resistance cells as they sprouted up across the region, the odd jaunt into the peaks to collect tributum for the Garleans. Back then I thought that was it, we were going to be Garlean dogs forever.”

“And then Zenos came…” Lyse murmured and Fordola looked up and met her eyes again.

“Yes, then the Garlean prince came to Ala Mhigo, and everything changed.” Fordola looked sideways at the Warrior of light. Her lips were drawn tight and her eyes were half closed, as if in thought, or recollection. 

_Flicker, he stood before her. Pride and madness mixed in his blazing eyes. “For we who are born into this merciless, meaningless world, have but one candle of life to burn…”_

Everything changed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies if you are seeing any inconsistencies with some phrasing, I guess...'Crani Lupi' should be capitalized as an actual organisation...but 'wolfs skulls' is slang so I think I should stop capitalizing skulls??? Er...I'm also struggling a bit with ensuring uniform paragraph spacing
> 
> I'm not sure...anyhows...
> 
> If you have made it this far, thank you so much for reading, and for any kudos you have given. Chapter 5 is broadly ready, it just needs a proper edit!
> 
> Thank you again.


	5. The Prince

#  **The Prince**

  
Fordola trailed off, but part of her brain was still shouting incoherently. 

Maybe her mother's death should have meant something to her...but it just hadn't registered in the days after her return to Ala Mhigo. She’s just taken the knowledge of her mother's death and put it to one side, while consuming herself in the work her father's death had led her to undertake. Maybe she should have made more of this to the judges as the last scion of House Lupis.

Although, when all was said and done, she doubted very much that they cared. Her fate had only been confirmed on the day of the uprising, not changed.

The murmuring from behind the dock was also louder and more agitated; she could almost hear the accusations and she wanted to turn and scream at them that the Imperials would have done far worse than anything she and the skulls had done. If the city had remained in chaos, the iron fist of the Empire would have come crashing down on them eventually, by sky or land. In just the past weeks, she had heard the city of Dalmasca, far to the east, had raised up in rebellion from its imperial overlords (ironically taking inspiration from Ala Mhigo), and been shattered and reduced to rubble in a matter of days.

  
If she had not restored order, back in those heady days following the death of Lord Gaius - this city would simply be today's Dalmasca. Another charred ruin, a dead civilization of fools. That said, she supposed if that had come to pass then Dalmasca might have lacked its inspiration for rebellion, maybe it's people would still be alive.

History was funny like that. Some Lord Zenos had said in the days leading up to his death, something about...world lines was it?

“So we now approach these recent events…” Kan-E-Senna mused, her soft voice nevertheless demanding Fordolas attention. “Your skulls are now established in Ala Mhigo, the resistance is building its strength, Gaius and the Empire has been cast out by Eorzea...talk us through the arrival of Lord Zenos…”

Fordola eased her dry throat with a chained hand before starting. “Almost a year had passed since our return and the city was largely calm with a heavy imperial presence. I had been on an excursion, leading men flushing out the ever increasing resistance cells in the peaks; search and destroy missions alongside collecting tributum on another day was the official reason.” She coughed drily again, “the unofficial reason was to get away from Mattenix. The acting viceroy was a clever man but he treated Ala Mhigo as just another fiefdom - to see my armed Ala Mhigans on the streets was untenable, he never lacked for means to disparage me and mine. Out in the peaks I could focus on simple things...and speaking with my men in the field led me to discover what I believed to be the resistance headquarters at Rhalgr’s Reach. But, before I could confirm my suspicions I was frustratingly summoned back to the city for the new viceroys arrival…”

\---

“Bloody Fool!!!” Fordola cursed, as she slammed the door violently behind her and marched away, down the shaded palace passageway.

  
  
Ansfrid, waiting outside, had already fallen into lockstep beside her. His sandy face now sun-weathered, scarred and firm; the boy's face having long hardened into a man's determination and regrets. “Mattenix didn't believe you?”

  
  
“Maybe he did…” Fordola gritted her teeth as she strode faster, her loose armour clinking slightly, the curved sword at her side sliding back and forth in its scabbard. “He’s a blasted fool, and a racist.” She stopped suddenly and looked at her second in command, breathing fiercely. “I’m convinced the resistance is at Rhaelgrs Reach; it may even be their headquarters; it's so well hidden and fortified...if we can strike one firm blow the whole organisation will be shattered!”

  
  
Ansfrid cocked an eyebrow wrly. “Do you truly believe they are akin to a rotten door frame that will come crashing down if the door handle gets a good kick?”

  
  
Fordola snorted in diresion and resumed her rapid pace towards the main palace thoroughfare and exit; ignoring the smartly dressed Imperial officers and other clanking tinheads that had to jump aside less she barrel into them. “No Ansfrid, I would never use such a ridiculous phrase...it just galls me that this _bureaucrat_ won’t arrange for an Imperial airship to overfly the place, land and investigate - they must be bleeding obvious from the sky!”

  
  
Ansfrid chuckled as he kept up with her, “I guess you could always try speaking to the army centuri.”

  
  
Fordola laughed at that, half genuinely, half bitterly. “That fat fool? Last time he at least called me a savage to my face when I told him he was holding back resources from our unit and it was costing us men in the field. We’re not men to him, we’re disposable savages…” She gritted her teeth in time to her furious strides as Ansfrid easily kept up, a sardonic grin on his face while Fordola continued to muse aloud, “I’ll think of something. If we can prove beyond doubt the resistance are at Rhaelgrs Reach we can bring the hammer of the empire down on them and finally know some peace for our people.”

  
  
Ansfrid chuckled a second time at that. “If you say so commander.”

  
  
They had reached the open palace doors that led out, down the wide steps to the vast courtyard that separated the city's main streets from the palace entrance. The courtyard had been cleared of civilians and both sides were steadily filling with the empire's legions in smart ranks. The brilliant white flags of Garlemald hung from every window and Fordola saw the odd nervous face of a civilian peering out. She chuckled to herself, openly admiring all the polished armour on display for a moment before it turned to amusement at the citizens of a snowy homeland having to stand at attention in the burning midday sun of Ala Mhigo.

  
  
“It's almost time for the new viceroys arrival.” Ansfrid said, also taking in the sight of all the manpower with evident admiration. “What do you know about this Lord Zenos?”

  
  
“Not much…” Fordola admitted. “Mostly just idle gossip from the few imperial troops that deign to get drunk enough to talk with us. Susano managed to flirt with one to get a few details, he recently pacified some of the eastern regions, the trueborn son of the Emperor himself, would you believe?”

  
Ansfrid nodded, smoothing back his greasy hair. “Well, unluckily for you - I get to stay here in the shade, and you get to go and stand out with the other Imperial officers and welcome our new glorious leader.”

  
  
Fordola shot him a deadly smile, half serious, half in jest. “Once the welcome and audience is over we’re heading straight back out to join Hrudolf and the others, I’ll use the time I’m standing at attention to come up with a new approach to staking out the resistance, mark my words.”

  
  
With that, she adjusted her sword, pulled down her jerkin firmly, and took the stairs at a jog to join the welcoming committee. 

\---

She had barely taken a position at the head of the ranks when three Imperial assault ships came into sight over the city walls, flying in formation. The imperial ranks bristled as from the airships came the amplified music of the Garlean Territorial Anthem for Gyr Abania and Fordola lustily joined in with the ranked troops.

  
  
_"Beyond Majestic Mountains,_

_Across the Emerald Dale,_

_On march of the Ivory Standard,_

_United we Prevail._

_From distant shores of Othard,_

_to Lakes of Aldenard,_

_The light of mighty Garlemald,_

_for'er our guiding star."_

As the first verse ended, Fordola finally caught a glimpse of the Imperial column marching slowly down the street towards the courtyard. In a neat column, four abreast, the Imperial XII legion came. Their armour blazing in the sun, weapons raised high and at their head; the prince himself.

Decked in full plate armour, Lord Zenos made for a striking, ominous figure, towering over his fellow men. He strode casually, his skull white face mask keeping his features invisible. Flaxen, thin hair flowed down from either side onto his broad armoured chest. At his side, a huge circular sheath carried the hilts of three distinctive katana’s. Fordola managed to keep half in tune with the other Imperials around her as she goggled at the ridiculous device. The weight and inconvenience alone would probably topple a lesser man; but Zenos yae Galvus walked easily past her without a sideways glance as he strode up the steps towards the palace.

  
  
The rest of the XII Legion halted as the prince and his centurios alone continued up the steps to the palace. After a preordained moment Fordola followed with the other garrison commanders, up the great white steps. Halfway up, as the prince entered the troops lustily began chanting his name as he vanished from sight.

  
  
‘Zenos, Zenos, ZENOS!’   
  
\---

The throne room of Ala Mhigo shone like never before and the great white flag of the Garlean Empire hung from the rafters framing Lord Zenos as he reclined casually in the throne. His head leant casually on one arm at an angle, his fearsome skull mask now removed and his hair rested loose across his armour.

  
  
Fordola had only been able to glimpse the prince briefly as she had entered the palace room. His face was broad, smooth and unscarred. His Garlean third eye was prominent and perfectly centered atop his brow. These were the few details she had gleaned before moving to attention at the end of a line of senior officers.

She was the only Ala Mhigan, a fact made obvious by how all the other men wore full Garlean armour and she was furthest from the throne. Her armour seemed patchy and revealing, she knew her Ala Mhigan features would be on full display to the prince if he was to glance over. Even Mattenix at the front had managed to fully ensconce his body within armour to welcome the prince, pride of place near the front for him. She only half listened as one of Mattenix’s subordinate tribunus continued to prattle, her mind elsewhere, plotting out ways to stake out the rebellion and put an end to it...

“...Alliance forces have occupied Castrum Oriens and taken up positions along the length of the wall.” The pratting continued. “Our patrols have engaged their reconnaissance parties on sight, but there have been no significant exchanges…” The captain paused briefly and Fordola stifled a dry chuckle at the thought. Her patrols engaged in most of these reconnaissance missions and took part in a dozen or so bloody ‘exchanges’. The Imperials had only undertaken one recent reconnaissance in force and she would have been amazed if the Eorzeans or the resistance had dared to take them on.

“Save one.” The tribunus continued and Fordola’s ears pricked up and her mind focused in. “A unit tasked with field-testing magitek weapons was attacked. The weapons were destroyed, with the unit sustaining near-total casualties.”

Fordola remained stiffly at attention, but she felt her eyes widen at the news. For an imperial unit with magitek weapons to be ambushed and destroyed, that was a colossal bungle. Had Mattenix ordered this mission?

“...Near-total? Go on.” Zenos Yae Galvus said, remaining reclined, his tone bored and deep, his eyes unblinking on the unfortunate tribunus as he stepped back into line, and a lower ranked Imperial primus pilus walked forwards and stiffly saluted.

“My lord.” The primus pilus began bravely enough. “There was but a single survivor from the unit in question, which falls under my command. According to his reports, they were ambushed by a contingent of Eorzean Alliance regulars, abetted by Resistance insurgents.” 

“Hmmm...” The prince drew out the word, his posture still one of a powerful apathy to something that bored him. “A simple ambush, and only one survivor. A fine day’s work.” There was a slow pause, then he abruptly spoke faster. “The stubbornness to survive is not without worth...he may live. However the XIIth is no place for the weak.”

“He shall be relegated at once, my lord.” The Pilus eagerly agreed, head bobbing up and down and Fordola decided the man was a piece of filth to abandon his own so readily. “As you say, the XIIth is no place for cowards who count their lives more precious than the cause.”

“Indeed, indeed.” Zenos mused. “We have no need for cowards…”

Slowly he drew himself to his feet and stood atop the throne dais. Then, after a moment's pause the prince turned his gaze to his tri-sword scabbard which rested alongside the throne. He reached forth, and pulled out a wicked blade before slowly turning back to the assembled lines and began to advance down the room, towards the assembled officers.

Fordola felt fear and tension prickle across the room as the prince advanced on the hapless pilus who took a step back in fear as the blade came closer and closer. “My lord, I…” the unfortunate man stammered.

The blade went up and came crashing down in almost a single movement, too fast for Fordola’s eyes to see. The blade cut cleanly through the pilus’s armoured neck and a fountain of blood gushed out, some flecked onto Mattenix’s armour who stood, shocked, next to the suddenly dead man.

Zenos expertly twirled the sword and replaced it at his side and addressed the dead body contemptuously. “Cowards, who defer critical missions to their subordinates - who hide within their castra, never meeting their prey in battle, never staring into the whites of their eyes.”

The prince’s head snapped back and he held out a mailed fist to the assembled leaders, his tone was no longer bored, but filled with a powerful energy. ‘“Why, when confronted with a heretofore unknown eikon, did we surrender the Wall to the Alliance?” He paused, then continued his dressing down. “Because my honoured father, in his infinite wisdom, has not seen fit to grant us leave to march on their lands. Accordingly, we have extended an invitation to our neighbours. Gyr Abania is where we shall host them - the field upon which we shall enjoy the sport of kings.”

  
  
Fordola now had her undivided attention on the prince and had to stop herself from nodding along to his words. Here was fire, here was drive, at last! 

“Patience is paramount.” The prince continued. “Cornered animals may have spirit, but they are ultimately predictable and very poor sport. But if one dangles the promise of freedom before them...while nipping at their heels to stroke their passion, then things become interesting...It is a delicate dance...and one which asks much of my hounds.”

The prince swung his head slowly left and right, viewing all the officers, his expression flat and emotionless. “And so I put the question to you, my fellow huntsmen; how shall we deal with these savages?”

There was a silence, as all assembled remained stiffly at attention. Fordola watched to see if Mattenix might step forward, and tell the prince of Rhalgr’s Reach, the very information Fordola had dropped in his lap this morning. If he did, Fordola resolved to pull forth her blade and kill the man where he stood and damn the consequences. But Mattenix stayed stock still, and Fordola relaxed, and resolved to seize this moment.

She stood forward, not looking directly at the prince in line with protocol for a non-Garlean pure blood, and saluted smartly. “My lord, I have a proposal!” Her voice came out louder then she had meant it to.

“Silence, Ala Mhigan!” The tribunus who had first spoken, gestured at her, plainly outraged. “You do forget yourself! Only by the grace of Lord Van Baelsar were you afforded a place here - and that in name alone! We have no need for your “proposals” savage!”

Fordola felt the hatred boil inside of her, was this how it was going to be? 

Then, slowly, the prince advanced towards her, down the room his armoured steps rang closer and closer. Fordola could see his naked sword shimmering closer out of the corner of her eye until the prince stopped, a pace away, towering over her.

  
  
She remained looking forward until finally she could bear it no longer. If she was to die, she would look this man in the eye and show him her spirit. She stared up at the prince with a resolute gaze, and was almost shocked to see a slight smile suddenly spread across the man's lips.

“This _savage_ .’’ Zenos mused aloud for the room to hear. “Yearns to hunt her own...the floor is yours, _commander_.”

Fordola felt elation rise within her, a passion and devotion suddenly stirring after the last years of pain and drudgy. This emotion must have shown on her face as she saluted again. “That you, my lord.”

She averted her gaze from the prince and addressed the room. “My lords, deep in the peaks, past the village of Ala Grannha is a large rock formation where an abandoned temple once stood. It is called Rhalgr’s Reach and it has few entrances, all of which are well guarded by members of the resistance. My men have been watching large groups of people including supply wagons congregate on this location, we are convinced it is the central hub for the rebellion. If we crush it, the rebellion can be forced out in the open and destroyed.”

The tribunus spoke up again, the earlier outraged tone now replaced with simple disdain. “Ala Grannha is many days' march from Ala Mhigo and close to the Eorzean border, do you have proof to support your claim?”

“I have not been able to get men inside the Reach.” Fordola began, its proximity to Eorzean supplies and volunteers made Rhalgr’s Reach that much more likely as a resistance base! “It is too well guarded, however from the air…!"

“My lord.” Mattenix sas Vandiatius stepped forward and saluted as the prince lazily looked over to him. “An airship has overflown this area already. It saw no people, no buildings, no signs of any activity. I suggest our pet savage is mistaken and means to draw the garrison away from the city.”

  
  
Fordola trembled with outrage and yearned to draw her sword and cut him down. To hear Mattenix saw it _had_ been overflown when he had not said so earlier…”The Eorzeans are known to be masters of glamour spells.” She grasped at the loose thread as Zenos lazily swung his piercing eyes back to her. “Their people are so base and decadent that they are known to glamour the most exotic of garments into lesser, base dresses simply to show more skin. Could it not be possible that they are lending this same expertise to conceal their base to airborne surveillance?”

“A tenuous claim.” The tribunus bit out as Mattenix nodded. “Perhaps you should head out and take your pets with you to confirm your suspicions?”

“Enough.” The prince spoke and the tribunus and Mattenix instantly fell silent.

Lord Zenos slowly sheathed his sword, his eyes fixed on Fordola. “I am in a new hunting ground and wish to better survey it. Commander assemble your men, I will join you on a hunt.”

“My lord!” Mattenix burst out, taking another half step forwards. “Is that wise?”

“Oho?” Lord Zenos slowly came about to fix his gaze on Mattenix who quailed and stepped back into line and tried to look inconspicuous. After a further moment's pause the prince continued. ‘I have heard rumours of a champion amongst the Eorzeans, a woman of stature beloved by the common people - she who struck down the black wolf with her own hand.’ Lord Zenos smiled and Fordola listened in rapt attention. ‘We Garleans pride ourselves as alpha predators, the top of the food chain, but lest ye remember, the alpha predators of our world are all intellectual dead ends - does the mighty Yanxian Tiger read and write? Do the megasharks of our deep waters feel passion in the hunt?” The prince looked down at Fordola. “We mortals, must feel as prey once in a while to live, to strive, to surpass our limits! If there is a champion among the savages that oppose us, I would find her, and see what mettle they are made of.”

His eyes were still resting on Fordola as he finished, and unsure of what to do as the silence extended Fordola saluted again. “I will prepare my men at once m’lord, we can leave today.”

“Good” Lord Zenos allowed a thin smile to show again. “If the hunt is worthy, you will be rewarded commander…” He tilted his head around to look back at Mattenix. “Keep the city in order until we return.”

“Yes my lord.” Mattenix saluted fervently as Fordola’s mind reeled with the possibilities, the plans that circled her head.

“My lord…” She spoke up more hesitantly. “We believe the rebellion may have up to 1,000 irregulars at the Reach, and my scouts have seen various cannons being smuggled through checkpoints. Should we not bring air support, or some measure of the local garrison with us?”

“Patience commander.” Lord Zenos rested his hand casually on his blade's hilt. “All will be as I wish it.”

“Yes my lord.” Fordola saluted and smiled again, oblivious to the deathly hatred in Mattenix’s face, hidden behind his armoured mask. Instead she was consumed by two thoughts; a wonder at the confidence of Lord Zenos, and the sudden knowledge that she may come face to face with the killer of her patron; Lord Gaius, within the next few days.

\---

The next few bells passed rapidly as Fordola worked in a frenzy to prepare her skulls for departure and best impress their royal escort. 

Ansfrid was kept busy corralling up the men she had within Ala Mhigo. Around 120 were eventually rounded up from a mixture of those on leave, patrol or ‘insurgency operations’ within the slums. Messengers were urgently sent out to Hrudolf’s unit near the town of Ala Ghiri, the only possible unit they could easily pick up on the way which would add a further 80 odd to their numbers. It would have to be enough.

Fordola did not doubt that Lord Zenos was a strong and skilled warrior. In between hurried visits Ansfrid had passed more rumours of his exploits in the far east when he crushed the Doma rebellion. Allegedly in the final battle Zenos had cut his way through dozens of trained soldiers before personally duelling and defeating the Doma leader, Lord Kaien. She hoped he was as fierce a fighter as these stories suggested.

Finally there was no more work she could think to do. She sat back on her uncomfortable wooden stool in her cramped quarters and looked out of the tiny barred windows at the setting sun over the wall of Ala Mhigo. The moment's peace was broken by a knock at the door and a second later, Ansfrid entered with a tray and two flagons. The only man Fordola knew, who was bold enough to just enter after a courtesy knock. 

“Everyone I could rustle up is assembling at the palace entrance.” Ansfrid smiled, taking up most of the room as he stood there for a moment with the tray. “I’ve not told anyone specifically what this is for, just to pack light provisions, weapons and armour for a fast march; but I think everyone can guess.”

  
  
Fordola allowed herself a slight smile as well as Ansfrid laid the tray down on the table in front of her, picking up one of the flagons himself. “Blood tomato juice commander.” He grinned. “With a little something extra.”

  
  
Fordola made a show of slowly reaching out and sniffing the potent red liquid. “Is the extra ours or theirs?”

  
  
Ansfrid smile broadened. “Ours. A side project of the Crania Lupi - if we can’t kill the insurgents, we’ll poison them with this instead!”

  
  
They both drank heavily and gasped loudly as the potent alcohol mixed with the pulpy juice hit their throats.

  
  
Fordola smashed the flagon down and smacked her lips, it tasted like life. Even before the drink hit her, she had felt an energy and invigoration pulse through her since the audience with Lord Zenos. She hadn't felt so fired up like this in a long time.

  
  
She stood and buckled on her blade and a light buckler shield on her left arm and motioned to Ansfrid, who with a mock bow, opened the door and motioned her out first.

  
  
Fixing him with a mock withering look, Fordola strode past into the dimly lit corridor when suddenly there was a CRACK!

  
  
There was a whiff of acrid smoke, a sensation of motion and then Ansfrid had crashed against her, pushing her to the far wall facing her room.

  
  
A second CRACK and Fordola felt Ansfrid’s body against her judder and she heard a grunt and smelt ozone. She shoved Ansfrid away hard and awkwardly pulled forth her sword and raised her buckler shield, looking wildly down the dim corridor.

  
  
A third and final CRACK sounded and a bullet sparked against her shield and ricocheted into the wall in a shower of sparks. There was a flicker of movement and Fordola saw a figure vanish around a corner in the distance.

  
  
Blood pounding in her ears she tensed to pursue but forced calm, instead looking over Ansfrid while keeping her shield up. He was leaning heavily against the wall panting, his face contorted in pain.

  
  
“Are you alright!?” The words bubbled out of her in a rush of adrenaline, memories of Mari and the mob flashing through her mind.

  
  
Ansfrid managed a weak smile and pointed down at his side. There was a cut in his armour and some blood was visible, but Fordola breathed in relief as she saw the wound was slight, Ansfrid’s armour was light and poor by Garlean standards, but it had done the job well enough here.

“I’ll be fine.” Ansfrid managed, but his teeth were gritted. “Guess I won’t be able to join you and your prince on this excursion though.”

  
  
Fordola nodded slowly, her eyes snapped back to the corridor from which the assassin had fired from. “Did you see anything?” She asked urgently.

  
  
Ansfrid put a hand to his side as he slowly stood up straight again. “I didn't need to, the bullet, the sound - that was a Garlean gunblade. A weak model though” He looked at Fordola warily. “Probably to make less noise even in this quiet part of the palace. We know we have enemies on either side of us, but for a brazen attempt within the palace...who would dare?”

  
  
Fordola gritted her teeth, remembering the earlier contempt in the tone of the tribunus, and the constant, dogged racism of the acting viceroy. “I have some ideas…” she muttered under her breath.

\---

After she had seen Mattenix to the medical orderlies (trusted Ala Mhigans, rather than the local Imperial garrisons medics) Fordola moved swiftly to the main palace gates, even as the setting sun cast its crimson glow over the city.

  
Her men were standing strictly to attention, for a moment she wondered why, but then as she rapidly descended the stairs to the same palace courtyard she had been in this midday she saw Zenos was already there.

  
  
The prince was dressed lightly, no longer in full armour with a single blade at his side. Behind him in smart order was a squad of perhaps two score Imperial troops with the armoured markings of the XIIth legion, mainly magick wielding signifer’s and securtor’s armed with short blades. Fordola was gratified to see two towering magitek reapers with engines spooling up. Each reaper was hooked up to a baggage train of provisions and Fordola could see the ridiculous tri scabbard of Lord Zenos was carefully strapped in pride of place at the front.

  
“Lord Zenos sire!” She snapped a salute as she approached the prince first. “My apologies for my late arrival.”

  
  
“No need to apologise, commander.” The prince looked over her with a practiced gaze, a slight smile on his lips. “I heard from one of my men that your second-in-command will not be joining us due to an injury sustained in an apparent assasination attempt, is that true?”

  
  
“Ye...yes sire.” Fordola stammered out, disheartened that Lord Zenos had heard this from another. “I will find the culprits on our return.” She projected energy, willing the prince and herself to believe it.

  
  
“I’m sure you will…” Lord Zenos smiled a wolf's grin. “The thrill of an assisination attempt on the day of our departure...I envy you commander, and pity your adversaries. Assasination is usually unthinkable to moral, thinking men until they are faced with something they truly fear or despise; it is nevertheless a coward's choice, an option taken by frightened animals rather than worthy prey. I will not miss them, if they are one of mine.”

  
  
“Yes my lord” Fordola saluted again, unsure what else to say and wanting to address her men, but unable to leave until Zenos had dismissed her.

  
  
“Once in Doma…” Lord Zenos continued, a smile playing on his face even as his eyes remained fixed on her. “I was led by a woman of guile to a Doman brothel, on the pretext of seduction. There I willingly disrobed and discarded my weapons - not to reciprocate as she thought; but willingly because I knew this woman had taken the time to arrange sport for me.”

  
  
“What happened...my lord?” Fordola’s words caught as she considered the prince’s words.

  
  
“There were twelve assassins within the brothel.” Lord Zenos gaze had become dreamily, lost in the memory. “Armed to the teeth with poisoned daggers, potent magicks, bows, arrows and axes. I spent nearly 20 minutes hunting them down barehanded, unarmoured and ready for one of them to prove themselves a worthy adversary. When I broke open the final assassins skull on the floor and turned on the woman who had lured me there...why, I was as satisfied as I have been for the last few years of my life.”

  
  
“What...what did you do to the woman in question?” Fordola managed, unsure what else to say.

  
  
Zenos chuckled at that, then laughed widely drawing worried looks from the nearby imperials. He then allowed Fordola a widespread gleaming grin. “Do? Why I made her the viceroy of Doma.” 

\---

A short while later Fordola led her troops out of the city's main entrance, and on the long march through the lochs towards the distant peaks.

Far behind her, at the rear of her marching troops with the other Garleans, she could feel the prince's eyes still burning into her back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Garleans have the best national anthem - when the credits roll over Stormblood and they are singing the 'true' version of the anthem I was unimpressed to say the least. Guess that's something about autocracies, they have rousing national anthems (look up that Soviet National Anthem, what a cracking tune!)
> 
> Thank you as always for reading, for the kudos and your patience. Chapter updates will slow now, the next (much shorter) chapter is awaiting an edit, but then the chapter after that in Rhalgr's Reach itself is taking time!
> 
> Also, apologies for some of the inconsistent paragraphing/double spacing. 
> 
> Best wishes


	6. The First Recess

#  **The First Recess**

  
“Court will now take a short recess,” Alphinaud announced, clapping primly and standing. “See to it that she is given something to eat and drink.” He addressed Fordola’s nearest guard who stepped forwards to take her away from the dock.

  
  
Fordola allowed herself to be led to a side door off the main court, as the angry murmurings of the watching crowd intensified again. She gave the judges table one last look to see what looked like Alphinaud lecturing an unrepentant Rabaun while Admiral Merlywb had already vanished from the table, probably for a stiff drink.

  
  
The door swung shut, and the sight, and the noise was cut off. She was taken down a deserted corridor for a few moments before being steered, wordlessly, into a small room that might have once been an office; now stripped off all furniture except a single stool. High in the wall, a lone barred window allowed a shaft of sunlight to kiss the floor.

  
  
The guard slammed the door shut and Fordola heard a heavy lock turn a moment later.

  
  
Grateful of a moment to herself, she rubbed her aching, chained hands and shook both legs to restore some movement to them. She paced round the small room for a few moments before realising the room was only slightly larger then her old quarters within the palace that had been her home for nearly a year. Chuckling to herself at the thought, she stretched and heard her back click several times as she moved her shoulders left, then right. She slowly paced for a few moments around the sun beam striking the floor thinking on the events so far.

  
  
She had resolved to tell _almost_ all of the facts and _almost_ all of the truths but maybe she should have been more contrite? But no, she was too proud to beg for mercy, too pragmatic to expect it.

  
  
She stoped pacing, and moved to the wall under the window, resolving to sit for a moment when she heard the door lock slowly turning.

  
  
She tensed and span around, visions of assassins bribing the guard to enter her cell ran through her head…

  
  
...but it was the Warrior of Light who entered.

  
  
Close up, the woman practically radiated a golden, white hue of aether which was even more striking close up. Her garments were eye-catching in their cut and design, accenting her peak physical condition. Fordola practically felt a pauper in her presence, a feeling that gave her a curious mixture of violently opposing emotions. 

  
  
The Eikon Slayer carried a small tray with two wooden mugs of clear water, and a small plate of what looked like battered salt cod puffs. The smell invitingly washing over Fordola, mixed with the Warriors familiar scent.

  
  
That said, her first thoughts were that of a surprised exasperation, “You…” she managed, the word coming out quite strangled. “What are you doing here!?”

  
  
“I came to see you.” The Warrior’s words were simple, her voice melodic and her eyebrows creasing together as she gave Fordola a quizzical look. The Warrior gestured with the tray and when Fordola made no move to take it, the Warrior of Light sighed, and moved gracefully forwards as the door swung shut and locked the two of them in together. Fordola briefly caught a glimpse of an incredulous guard staring in as the Warrior placed the tray of food and drinks down on the low stool.

  
  
Fordola watched her for a moment longer as the other woman settled neatly down on the floor without a care in the world. When she was sure no visions were about to swing her away, she quickly sat down across from the stool and greedily chugged some water and allowed the cool liquid to sooth her aching throat. That done, she grabbed two of the cod puffs and ravenously tore into them, one after the other.

  
  
“You shouldn't eat so fast.” The Warrior helpfully suggested as Fordola coughed and bashed her chest as the food went down.

She glared at the Warrior for that, but then felt her gaze soften as she leant back against the wall and folded her arms across her chest to better meet the other woman's gaze evenly.

  
  
“Surprised you came to talk to me.” Fordola grimaced for some reason at the thought. “You’ve not said a word so far?”

  
  
“To do good, and be good, is a duty that requires few words.” The other woman said evenly, leaning back on her hands and meeting Fordola’s gaze across the cramped room. “Just a lot of nodding.” She offered a weak smile at that.

  
  
“Ah yes.” Fordola smirked, cocking her head mockingly. “I forget; you’re the hero, the Warrior of Light, the saviour of the people.”

  
  
“Stop that.” The Warrior spoke, the words suddenly sharp, and Fordola watched as the Warriors right hand came up to idly brush back some of the hair that obscured her lips.

  
  
“Stop what?” Fordola mocked, deciding to continue. “How many people have you killed to stand where you stand today? Are you afraid of what I might say later today?”

  
  
“No,” the Warrior of Light smiled thinly and Fordola saw the haze of aether around the woman suddenly pulse as if in agitation, speckles of blue, purple and black briefly swirled around. “Stop calling me the Warrior of Light, you know my name, call me by it.”

  
  
Fordola suddenly felt uncomfortable and felt her brittleness crack, she looked down at her feet unbidden. “We’re not friends, you or I.”

  
  
As she studied her feet she heard the other woman sigh slowly, then. “No I suppose we aren't. But I wouldn’t mind if we were.”

  
  
“I’ll be executed tomorrow once this is done.” Fordola said again, the words were hollow to her, she was prepared. “Every moment I drag this story out, is a moment of just prolonging the inevitable.”

  
  
There was a pause, then, “You will not be executed Fordola, I won’t let that happen, nor will Alphinaud.”

  
  
Anger flushed in Fordola and must have shown in her face as she looked back up, short hair swishing. “I don’t need saving.” She grated each word.

  
  
There was a pause, and then the Warrior spoke softly. “Why are you doing this?”

  
  
“Because I was asked to!” Fordola snapped, going back to addressing her feet even as she knew that she had deliberately misinterpreted the other woman's question. “Because; they should know that no conqueror, or liberator can succeed without dirtying their hands.”

  
  
“Is that your point?” The question, and the words were softer yet.

  
  
Fordola looked off to the side wall now and muttered. “Better to fight and regret, then not fight and regret.”

  
  
“Fordola, I…” and Fordola looked up to see the Warrior of Light had moved to her knees and was reaching out a perfect hand to her. The aether around the woman was swirling so thickly, it blazed with a thousand hues of golden light, it was almost hard to make out her eyes.

  
  
“It is folly to hope!” Fordola snapped feeding the spark of anger within her, she met the Warriors eyes. “I am content to die a fool.”

  
  
The Warrior of Light flinched back and the hand fell limp to her side. The aether swirled around them.

  
  
“I didn't mean for you to see my memories.” The hero finally said and her eyes were suddenly filled with sadness.

  
  
“I know you didn't.” Fordola said quickly, feeling _something_ within her. She suddenly felt an overwhelming clarity; that a rare moment, a fork in her life that she could have steered into with a few words and actions, had passed her by.

  
  
A long silence stretched between them, Fordola relaxed her arms and let them drop to the side, even as the Warrior of Light now crossed hers across her abundant chest.

  
  
“Tell me something…” The Warrior finally spoke, hesitatingly. “Can you sleep at night?”

  
  
Fordola thought about the question for a while, and found herself folding her arms again absentmindedly. “Sometimes aye…most times not.”

  
  
The other woman nodded slowly. “When I spoke to some of my fellow Scions on my troubles, I got a range of answers…it's one of the genuinely few times I feel separate from them…like there is a void, a chasm between me and my fellow members.”

  
  
Fordola snorted. “Because you can’t sleep?”

  
  
That got a sharp look, but a soft answer. “Sometimes…for a short while. I’ve told others this, but for seven years now I’ve hardly needed to. Only briefly when Her blessing was taken from me did I feel desperate fatigue consume me…”

  
  
“Her blessing?”

  
  
“You’ve seen it in my past…haven’t you? Midgardsomr?”

  
  
“…”

  
  
Another silence stretched between them. Then, as the sunbeam on the ground slowly moved across the Warriors sandals, she spoke again. “We share a connection Fordola…you and I, it’s a connection I have with no other scion that lives. I hope you realize that?”

  
  
“I do…” Fordola nodded. “For what it's worth, I guess you’re the only one to see into my heart as well.”

  
  
“What about Arenvald?” The Warrior of Light offered a sly smile at that, her hand absently moving to twist a strand of hair. “I think he might have a shine for you...”

  
  
Fordola snorted. “Ye Gods…that patronizing lump of a man doesn’t know which side his sword is buttered.”

  
  
The phrase made no real sense to either of them, but for some reason both women burst out laughing at that.

  
  
A part of Fordola was shouting at her _why are you laughing, you’re in a courthouse on the day of your condementation_! Gods though! She hadn’t laughed in a long time, another though whispered, was it the same for the Eorzean hero opposite her?

  
  
The moment passed and the laughter died down, a moment later, the Warrior spoke cautiously. “It’s Rhalgr’s Reach next…and I suppose you will be talking about us soon?”

  
  
Fordola chuckled drily. “You overestimate yourself, you’re not that big a part of my life. We’re enemies aren't we?” She looked up with a grin and…

  
  
_Flicker._

  
  
_It was a courtyard of snow again, it was part of a memory Fordola had seen already today…_

  
  
_Around her, people huddled on the ground. Some carried injuries, others simply cowed in fear before the figure radiating darkness at the heart of the compound._

  
  
_It was a figure of black armour. A battered, jagged helmet completely covering their face. Out of barred eye slits; grey, dead eyes stared out._

  
  
_“Pay attention…” The voice was husky, impossible to gender but strangely familiar. “This could be the greatest moment of our life…”_

_  
__  
__Fordola suddenly became aware of her own movement. She was separate! She was detached! When the visions took her, when her manufactured Echo swept her up, usually it was broken fragments she would see lasting mere seconds. On a handful of occasions, she saw what she understood to be the ‘true echo’, akin to a lucid dream where a person can move and act within their dream. The last of these had been weeks ago…with the Warrior of Light as well…_

 _  
__  
__Fordola slowly, oh so slowly, looked to her side, and there, she saw the Warrior of Light gazing back at the figure of black armour._

  
  
_Unlike the loose garments she usually wore to better cast magicks, the Warrior in this memory was decked in fine red armour, a broad claymore across her back. The Warrior's expression was almost unreadable, but Fordola saw a mixture of emotions hidden within those eyes. Pain, worry, fear...and a strange tug, something else…_

_  
__  
__Longing?_

 _  
__  
__The other figure was still talking, mockingly, accusingly. “That is, if you could stop denying the truth that’s been staring you in the face since the moment we met.”_

 _  
__  
__Fordola looked back to the dark figure who was emoting expressively with their hands. The dead eyes now blazed a peculiar red. Colour was always muted in the echo, different shades of grey – but this red was uncannily vivid and it shook Fordola._

 _  
__  
__“Say my name.” The figure urged the Warrior of Light, even as the fallen knights and civilians crawled away in fear from the monster. “Say it. My real name. Our real name!”_

 _  
__  
__There was a pause, then the figure continued, the voice contouring, the dissonance shifting, becoming more feminine, more familiar and Fordola already knew as the figure rambled about soul crystals, mentors and dark knights._

 _  
__  
__Even in the echo, with its muted colours and detached sense of ‘self’ Fordola suddenly felt a real spike of fear grip her as the figure clenched her hand before her. “A woman who was free to say and do the things you would not. Even now, you continue to deny it. Well. Deny me all you want. You cannot deny what we have done.”_

 _  
__  
__The voice was now entirely femanine and increasingly shifting in tone, becoming more familiar. The blazing eyes swept left and right, the huddled figures on the ground that was still too close quailed and scrambled backwards. Only the Warrior of Light beside Fordola remained resolute even as the figure turned back to her._

 _  
__  
__“Have I not been good to you?” It implored suddenly, reaching out in a very familiar motion. “Have I not given you everything I promised? Did I not help you to hear the whispers of our very soul?”_

 _  
__  
__Unbidden, Fordola remembered that evening with Lord Zenos, weeks after Rhalgr’s Reach…The fireplace, the fine wine, the Yanxian tiger rug...‘Have I not been good to you Fordola?..Have I not given you everything I promised…?” His lips, so sensual for such a vicious man playfully toying with the words…_

 _  
__  
__As personal memories and the memories of another mixed in Fordola’s aching head a sudden, hazy aura began to pulse around the dark figure as its eyes continued to bore into the Warrior of Light, oblivious to Fordola standing next to her. “Open your eyes. Look. Do you see now? Do you see?”_

 _  
__  
__The figure fell to the ground as the aether converged and pulsed, and suddenly, out of the shadows stepped an identical figure to the Warrior of Light. Identical save for those red eyes that pulsed in the hazy grey of the Echo._

 _  
__  
__“Everything up until now has been your story…” The figure began and Fordola suddenly felt a cold sweat send shivers up her back, even as rips began to appear in reality. The injured people vanished, the cracks ripped along the sky. The Warrior of Light shimmered and suddenly a thousand different faces stared directly back at Fordola, they were gabbling words, laughing, nodding, screaming…_

  
  
Fordola’s head rang with pain and her sense of real and falsehood fought for control. She had slumped to the floor of the holding cell in the courthouse. The cold sweat was real on her brow and she reached up to wipe it away even as the convulsions receded. It wasn't the pain or the physical touch of the floor that allowed the ‘real’ to win, but the iron chains, again chafing her hands that jingled mockingly in front of her as she wiped the sweat back.

  
  
“Fordola! Are you alright!?” This time the Warrior of Light's hand was actually on her shoulder, a very real concern gripped her voice. She was knelt right in front of Fordola and her face was far too close, her scent far too overpowering and today's events; far too painful.

  
  
It was all too much for Fordola.

  
  
“What are you…?” She managed and fell backwards away from the hand and looked up at the Champion of the Light, knowing her eyes were wide and afraid. “Who are you really? Does anyone truly know!? Did you ever tell any of your fellow scions about the darkness in the one they call the Warrior of Light!? Did you ever tell them about _Fray_?”

  
  
The hand slowly pulled away and the Warrior of Light slowly stood up, a deep sadness was now in her eyes, and a longing which Fordola refused to place.

  
  
After another unbearable moment had passed, the Warrior spoke. “I hold fast to my convictions, I do everything that has been asked of me and I cannot...I will not falter.”

  
  
“Leave me!” Fordola looked away, and saw the plate of cod puffs had been strewn across the floor at some point. “I do not wish to look at you anymore!”

  
  
For a moment she thought, she wanted, the Warrior to say something. To protest, maybe shout back at her, a part of her suddenly wanted to actually _fight_. But instead there was the sound of a soft knock on the door, the door opening; closing and the turning of the lock. The haze of aetheric light slowly reduced and Fordola took several deep calming breaths and for several moments there was calm, there was peace.

  
  
Then the door opened again, and this time it was the guard again looking down at her grimly. “It's time butcher, they’re calling for you.”

  
  
Fordola furiously swiped a single tear that had betrayed her turbulent emotions and dragged herself up and glowered at the guard who wordlessly turned and led her out.

  
  
As Fordola walked back down the corridor, towards the door that would lead her back to court, she swore she could still smell a hint of the other woman's fragrance in the air.

  
  
Resolutely she gritted her teeth and focused on the cold steel in her heart, she would not fall to pieces in front of this pathetic excuse for justice.

  
  
She had made a promise to herself, years ago - a promise to see Ala Mhigans treated with dignity and respect, to earn their place on the world stage. She had lived by this promise and expected to soon die for this promise.

  
  
As the door loomed before her, a strange whispered thought suddenly slipped through her mind.

 _  
__  
__Do not look at me so. A smile better suits a hero_.

  
  
Fordola felt her fists clench. She would tell the court all about _their hero_ whose deeds may reach far, but whose eyes couldn't see what was directly in front of her.

  
  
The door opened, and she entered the court for the second time that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was not in my rough plan for the story, it leapt, fully formed into my head at the end of the last chapter and I wrote it almost all in one seating.
> 
> I had always planned to keep the WOL stoic and potentially wordless, to better allow everyone to project onto...but finally I've decided that's just not going to work for where I would like to take this...
> 
> Hmm...
> 
> Also, obvious praise to the Dark Knight class storyline. If you enjoy FFXIV and have yet to experience this, I highly recommend specifically leveling DRK just for this.
> 
> One final thing - there will now be a longer break between chapters as we've effectively caught up with the material I've written! Chapter 7 is well underway though.
> 
> Thank you as always


	7. The Raid

#  **The Raid**

The same faces stared at her from across the table. The unreadable, the belligerent, the aggressor and the ‘have-a-go’ republican. Fordola checked them off her list, leaving just the strange, unplaceable youth, Alphanaud. Was he as young as he looked? He carried himself with an air of maturity, calm and prim dignity that Fordola hadn't really seen since...well since her father, but that was a strange thought.

  
  
The crowd in the pews were now much quieter. Perhaps they had taken advantage of a chance to stretch their legs, maybe mingle with the wider mob outside. Fordola had noticed hardly any empty seats on her return walk in. To most people, she suspected the courthouse was the closest they would get to high theatre at the moment.

  
  
Just a lot less funny.

  
  
“Court is resumed.” Alphanaud announced and looked left and right at the judges on either side of him. When it was abundantly clear that nobody wished to speak first, he coughed politely and looked down at his notes strewn on the table before him. “So you set out for Rhalgr’s Reach with Zenos? Your aim to decapitate the resistance in one swift stroke?”

  
  
“Aye.” Fordola nodded. This was the truth of it.

  
  
“Lord Zenos did not ride in a carriage?” Admiral Merlywb taking up Alphanuad’s lead. “Were there no airships available for transportation? I can’t imagine the Garlean prince marching on foot with mainly Ala Mhigans for several days, expressly for the purpose of killing other Ala Mhigans. Savages both, to him.”

  
  
Fordola shrugged, the thought had occurred to her at the time, but she was confident in the answer. “To Lord Zenos, our race mattered little, all he wanted was the thrill of the hunt, a moment's satisfaction against a worthy enemy - what was a person’s race next to that?” She shrugged again for good measure, taking care not to look off to her side where the Warrior of Light was seated, instead staring at the little specks of purple aether hovering around the admiral's neck. “As for airships,” she continued blithely. “The garrison had a few small gunships. I suppose there was a transport or two but not enough to fit all my men onboard. Truthfully, I didn't really pay it much mind. Lord Zenos took action in ways that few of his imperial ilk would approve of.”

  
  
At this the assembly exchanged veiled looks. Fordola again had a strange feeling of something obvious to them but fleeting to her…she continued to wonder but then Lyse leaned forwards, arms folded across the table. “Let's get this over with! You and your skulls stormed Rhalgr’s Reach and slaughtered people left, right and center! That’s what we are here to discuss.” She slammed her fist on the table with a resounding crack. “You murdered Meffrid, our leader! Do you deny any of this?”

  
  
“Well no.” Fordola fought the urge to sneer at the woman, such an expression would not go down well. Instead she managed what she hoped was a polite nod. “You were there, you saw what happened. The purpose of war, rebellion and armed resistance is to kill the other side before they kill you.” Her tone grew harsher, but not by design. “To break the enemy's center of gravity, to remove them as a threat. If you have soldiers today that don’t understand their job is to be one of the sole arbitrators of legal violence on behalf of their city then you’re employing the wrong people.”

  
  
“You’re wrong.” Lyse clenched her first. “Our resistance fought for freedom, equality, liberation from tyranny.”

  
  
“Aye.” Fordola nodded, Gods she would have enjoyed delivering this woman on a chained leash to Lord Zenos not too long ago! “As I saw it then...I would say you were an ineffective rabble following a directionless committee of castouts.” She shrugged again, cracking her shoulders. “Against you stood the most effective autocracy in all of Hydaelyn. Which would you pick to side with? The worst possible republic of freedom, or the best possible total autocracy?” With this she did point to the Warrior of Light, briefly making eye contact. “Until she and the rest of your heroes arrived, you had no hope, none.”

  
  
“Let's move on.” Alphinaud spoke up quickly. “Many of us were eyewitnesses to that day, but give your account of the actions you took and what you witnessed from Zenos, help fill in the gaps.”

  
  
“Fine” Fordola snapped. “Our march to Gyr Abania took four days, at noon on the fourth day my troops set up camp in a small wood hidden from sight. I headed out however, to see Rhalgr’s Reach for myself.” She paused, she could remember the brilliant warm sun, the peace of the moment, the purpose of her footsteps… “I always liked the peaks, they felt like an extension of Ala Mhigo itself…”

* * *

It was the smell that did it for her. The scent of yellow kudzu root in these areas was particularly potent, wonderfully heady, with a smoky lingering scent. Fordola breathed in deeply, savouring the moment even as she crouched in the shade of one of the few trees in the area. Her eyes fixed on the carved entranceway to the temple which she knew was within.

  
  
“A storm is coming.” Hrudolf too, was sniffing at the air. “Reckon it will be on us before nightfall.”

  
  
“Maybe.” Fordola allowed, although the late afternoon sky was warm and blue. Few clouds adorned the sky, and the sun blazed with a brilliant warmth on the sandy ground.   
  
Rhalgr’s Reach was an immense, jutting mountain of grey, towering above the lesser, golden pinnacles surrounding it. At the ground level, directly in front of them was the ruined foundations of Emprise. Once a grand hall where monks who had completed their training at the Temple would have been honoured. Once this hall would have bustled with activity, until it was laid to waste by the last, mad king of Ala Mhigo.

  
  
Now the ruined building partly concealed a wide opening that led into a passageway under the surrounding rock. If the history books Fordola had read as a child were correct, within the passageway would be an open, abandoned, temple complex which opened onto the sky, but was sheltered on all sides by the mountain pinnacles and under the great statue of Rhalgr itself. The perfect location for a would-be rebellion.

  
  
The importance of the passage before them was confirmed by the six armed figures chatting casually together in the shade of the passageway.

  
  
“I’ve been watching the ruins for the last two days prior to your arrival.” Hrudolf continued. Fordola had noted how his dark hair had grown long, a generous stubble had now covered the scar an insurgent had given him several moons ago. His eyes were intent and he kept his voice low, despite the great distance between them and the enemy. “I think we’ve underestimated how many there can be within; far more than a thousand I think. Also I’ve heard cannon fire on several occasions within, I can only presume they are drilling heavy weapon units to take on Imperial magitek armour.”

  
  
Fordola grunted an affirmation, and again pulled out the small spyglass from her pocket and carefully fixed an eye to it, scouring the entranceway for any obvious sign of weakness. The resistance guards certainly seemed relaxed, chatting amicably about themselves.

  
  
“You need to tell Lord Zenos to call in the full Garlean garrison!” Hrudolf urged, as Fordola continued to scan left and right. “Attacked a fortified location with barely 200 men! If we are to crush this rebellion properly we need enough troops to bottle up all the entrances and place them under siege; they can’t have much in the way of supplies. A siege, or an overwhelming majority of troops to storm the reach is what's called for.”

  
  
“We can’t currently support a siege so close to Eorzea and the Black Shroud.” Fordola remarked evenly enough, her attention focussed through the spyglass. She could make out movement from within the passageway, the guards were straightening up to attention. “Besides,” she continued absently. “While there are nearby water supplies, we would be ultimately reliant on supply chains which could be easily raided by resistance cells. As for a crushing majority of troops...well I’ll mention it to Lord Zenos, but I wouldn't be surprised if he orders an attack tonight.”

  
  
“Madness…” Hrudolf breathed out slowly. “The Garlean prince charging into the lion's lair!? He’ll be captured or killed along with the rest of us; does he think himself invincible?” He paused for a moment and sniffed the air again. “Besides, it's going to be quite the storm.”

  
“Quiet” Fordola hissed as she focused the spyglass more closely on the figure who had emerged from the passage.

  
  
It was a striking woman, dressed in loose fitting garb which hardly hid her generous proportions from the harsh sun of the area. Her hair was loose and fell freely down to the tops of her blue eyes, which were now studying the surrounding peaks. Fordola found herself strangely drawn to this sight, there was a...dichotomy of sorts here. At first glance the woman seemed nothing more than a striking sight, soft and vulnerable without armour. But as you looked closer...there was a firmness about the way she stood, an angle to her soft eyes that swept the horizon appraisingly. A reverent deference given to her by the surrounding guards who stayed at attention at a distance.

  
  
Fordola moved the spyglass, and saw a large bound tome fastened to her waist, and for the first time noticed a glowing blue...creature, of some sorts padding at her side on all fours.

“Who's that?” Hrudolf asked. Fordola could tell he would have his own spyglass fitted to his eye now, focussing on the same strange woman.

  
  
“A summoner…” Fordola guessed, focusing on the blue…’egi’ was it? The ethereal creature playfully followed the woman's motions as she walked left and right across the entranceway, basking in the sun. “I’ve heard there are a few among the Eorzeans, mainly based out of Gridania; she must be a volunteer…”

  
  
“Seems a shame to fight against one so pretty.” Hrudolf mused and Fordola found her lips twitching in a wry grin. “Still, a summoner could be trouble and look how the guards are treating her...you don’t think she could be anyone special do you? The mythical Champion of Eorzea?”

  
  
Fordola snapped the spyglass shut and turned away, they were overthinking things, that soft looking woman? “No, I think not.” She said firmly. “By tomorrow, she’ll be dead if she stays here.” 

* * *

“We will attack tonight, commander.” Lord Zenos struck a patient and understanding tone, his posture relaxed, but Fordola could see the steel glinting in his eyes. “They are rabble, and rabble will break before us. Those that don’t...will be cut down where they stand.”

“Yes...yes my lord.” Fordola replied, aware of Hrudolf’s stance stiffening next to her as Lord Zenos looked calmly on. The setting sun now framed the prince’s face as behind, her skulls were busy sharpening weapons, donning armour and forming up in squads. Her men, if anything, were keen and ready, even if Hrudolf had his misgivings of the odds before them.

  
  
Fordola gazed at the prince before her, as he lounged, seemingly at ease on a chair a Garlean had carried all this way specifically for this purpose. At his feet two Garlean underlings were fastening the last of his mighty armour into place, leaving just his head unadorned. The smell of ceruleum was in the air, as the two magitek reapers warmed up their engines, now detached from their cumbersome baggage trains and ready for their base purpose of war and carnage.

  
  
“Pick your swiftest, quietest men.” Lord Zenos continued. “They should dispatch the guards and allow us to enter unannounced in cover of darkness. Once your men are in, they are to make every possible noise as they fall on the enemy. The rebellion will think our numbers ten times greater than they are in the confusion. A rebellion always imagines the odds against it far greater then they often are, which is why they fail. See to it that the few thaumaturge’s you have focus on setting ablaze anything that burns. The troops I have from the XIIth and the magitek reapers will bottle them in from the south entrance. Trust me commander, they will collapse before our blades.”

  
  
“But my lord.” Hrudolf suddenly stammered rashly despite Fordola having explicitly telling him beforehand to hold his tongue. “We cannot secure all the entrances to the reach while doing this, surely many will simply escape and regroup for another day?”

“Cowards that flee before us are of no sport to me.” Zenos smiled thinly as the Garlean underlings stepped back. Slowly he rose to his feet, to tower over Fordola and Meffrid as his tri-scabbard was carefully brought over by three Garleans who began fastidiously buckling it in place. “We decapitate the head of the beast, and its fallen limbs will trouble us not.”

  
  
With the tri-scabbard firmly in place Lord Zenos slowly picked up his great helm and raised it to his head. He paused, the helmet poised to envelop his features and looked down at Fordola in those last rays of the sunshine. The slight smile remained, as Fordola respectfully glanced back down. Finally he spoke again in that same gentle, apathetic tone. “Do you have any further...objections, commander?”

  
  
“My lord…” Fordola saluted, she was committed now, but she paused once more. “My lord...it…” She wasn't sure what to say but she could feel Meffrid willing her on beside her. “My lord...there’s going to be a bad storm tonight!” She blurted out unbidden and Meffrid’s shoulders slumped.

  
  
Lord Zenos smiled. It was a terrible smile, and he then pulled the helmet carefully over his head. A moment later his fearsome visage was complete, but Fordola could hear the mirth in his voice as he replied through the filtered air intakes. “Then we shall kill them in the rain.” 

* * *

The night sky was now thick with gathering clouds, but Fordola hardly noticed. Her focus and resolve were entirely committed to the mission ahead. Truthly, she admitted to herself, she would have been disappointed if Lord Zenos had done this any other way.

  
  
She crouched low to the ground, almost in the same spot she had spied from earlier, Hrudolf close at hand as they watched their swiftest, and quietest slowly make their way towards the ruins guarding the passageway.

  
  
Further behind them and well out sight behind rock, 200 skulls remained perfectly quiet. Quieter than Fordola would have believed possible. Then again, Lord Zenos was waiting with them and the man had a certain...presence, that could not be denied.

  
  
She carefully fixed the spyglass to her eye, and watched the ruins with baited breath.

  
  
There were five guards now, three with long lances and two with swords. They were more alert and watchful than the afternoons guards, but not by a great margin. They were chatting amongst themselves (no doubt about freedom and liberty), leaning against the rock walls and weapons were sheathed or leaning against columns nearby.

  
  
Suddenly, she saw the flurry of a dozen arrows strike the men from the shadows. The rebellion guards were poorly armoured and the arrows flew true. They bit into necks and chests, each guard dancing a gruesome jig as they thudded in, several arrows to a man.

Where once that had been life, and comradeship, there was now just a collection of dead bodies.

  
  
Fordola breathed out slowly, and put down the spyglass. “You chose your archers well Hrudolf, bring the rest forward. As Lord Zenos says, no noise until we are on them.”

  
  
Hrudolf was likewise committed; he scrambled back and out of sight as Fordola reflectively checked the sword at her side and rested a hand on it reassuringly. Then she heard the footsteps and turned to watch her skulls come into view. She felt a burst of pride. Her men (and women) looked magnificent, and fearsome - white skull masks framed in orange turbans - most carrying spears or blades similar to her own. They were ready for this and so was she. She would not show hesitation before her men, she would lead by example.

  
  
She raised a clenched fist to her men in salute, then turned and began a fast paced trot towards the ruins, out of cover. Already, the bodies of the guards were being dragged out of the passageway by the advance party. Behind her the thudding of feet was equal to the thudding of her heart as she yearned for the clarity of battle. The distance to the entranceway was not far, but the time stretched out for an eternity...then she was suddenly past the ruins and in the passageway.

  
  
Her men marched behind her, the thundering of their feet echoed in the earthen tunnel lit by burning braziers on either side. Surely they could be heard at the tunnels exit? Then they rounded a corner, and she could see the tunnel widening. A vast opening appeared before them and the clouds could be seen, boiling overhead in the night sky.

  
  
She raised her fist a second time and her men let out a deafening roar as they poured into the reach like water.

  
  
Fordola stepped to one side of the entrance as her men rushed forwards, she had to read the lay of the land - to target the terrorist leaders - to direct her troops as they rushed in.

  
  
Rhalgr’s Reach was larger than she had expected. A vast hollow surrounded by rock but with sight of the sky above. Dozens of large fabric tents filled out the hollow, many surrounding flickering campfires around which figures huddled. At the center of the reach a large lake rested, the towering statue of Rhalgr rising high up into the mountain. Fordola snorted, so much activity, so many people - and yet not visible from the sky? Sophisticated magicks indeed.

  
  
As her men poured forth shouting savage war cries she heard the first cries of surprise, fear and defiance. She watched as her men fell on the first defenders who were awake and close to the entranceway as her men surged in. The first flames began to lick at nearby tents and the agonising sound of panicked voices filled the air.

  
  
Hundreds of people were now dragging themselves out of the tents or appearing from buildings carved into the rock. Some had grabbed arms and flung themselves into the defence of their home, but plenty others milled around in panic or confusion as the flames and commotion spread.

  
  
Fordola watched a moment longer as the battle played out before her. It was obvious from her vantage point that her skulls were outnumbered massively. But in the chaos, the surprise and the noise, the rebellion had little way of knowing that as they reeled in disarray. The defence of the reach was scatty and unprepared. Her skulls were moving fast, striking down man and woman alike, expecting no quarter - for they knew the fate that had befallen skulls that had fallen into the hands of the rebellion.

She began moving forward, towards the rightmost flank where a particularly large tent decked with gaudy banners flew. A particularly larger number of defenders were actually holding back the skulls there. Perhaps they had been carrying out evening drills, perhaps they were just light sleepers or perhaps they were better motivated and led.

  
  
She pulled forth her blade and advanced on the fighting. A man noticed her, and rushed at her - both armed and armoured, his teeth gritted in hatred or fear he raised his blade high - screaming incoherently.

  
  
Fordola pivoted as the blade came down, sweeping her right leg back and brought the blade crashing back, cleanly slicing through the man's abdomen. His lifeblood spilled and he slowly slumped the floor, face suddenly wearing a surprised expression even as Fordola walked on, twirling the blade to better warm up her arm.

Flickers of lightning and crashes of resounding thunder now added to the general commotion as more tents began burning. A sense of greater chaos and confusion surely gripped the defenders, even as desperate clusters tried to hold out against the savage onrush. “Forward! FORWARD!” Fordola bellowed. “Give them no quarter!” Her men needed no encouragement, as they battled forwards, overwhelming the pockets of resistance.

  
  
It was at that moment that she felt a shiver run along her back, a premonition of danger. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a flash of movement; another figure was charging for her - glinting spear outstretched for her.

  
  
Again she pivoted, graceful and sure of her abilities. Again her blade sliced up and this time bit into the terrorist’s throat. The man gurgled and fell, the spear falling from his limp hands.

  
  
Fordola looked down briefly at the corpse, that had been a person and was now simply a body. She felt nothing. 

She began continuing towards the right flank where the fighting remained fiercest. She could now see a man leading the defenders, encouraging them with shoulds of defiance. She watched as he cut down a skull, a man she briefly recognised as Cedric, barely 18 in his first deployment, loyal to the Empire and Ala Mhigo. Cedric’s body fell to the ground and the leader traced a furious arc in the air with his blade, neck twisting as he looked for a target...and his eyes fixed on Fodola.

  
  
The same plaited hair, the same blazing eyes of passion. A shield and sword of Ala Mhigan design almost identical to Fordola’s own. A leader of the rebellion without doubt.

  
  
“You!” Meffrid shouted. Anger, pain and hatred fought in his voice for dominance. He rushed at her without a second's pause even as Fordola resolved to cut him down without mercy. Meffrid’s blade sliced down and Fordola pivoted back; without a second pause his blade reversed and came back, whistling through the air, again Fordola twisted aside. She danced in place, avoiding his killing blows with ease

  
He was weak. He lacked experience fighting and killing. 

She caught the third blow casually on her blade and pushed him aside with one arm, feeling her confidence grow. Meffrid fell back, stumbled slightly and a dozen paces opened up between them. He furiously righted himself and steadied his stance, facing her head on.

  
“Traitor!” He shouted definitely, as around them his men died and Fordola’s killed. “Kinslayer!!”

  
  
Fordola felt nothing, her eyes twitched briefly at Cedric's dead body. “You’re no kin of mine!” She barked, harshly.

  
  
Meffrid gritted his teeth and a moment stretched between them. She knew the contest was already decided, was he too stubborn to flee? Or did he realise that she would cut him down fleeing regardless?

  
  
Finally his teeth pulled back in a grim snarl and he charged - raising the blade high in a slice identical to the first man Fordola had encountered.

  
  
Clearly he was the one responsible for training his men poorly.

  
  
Fordola’s blade sang as she swept forward, easily avoiding the blow, stepping past even as her blade severed his jugular in one swift cut.

  
  
She remained in place, savouring the kill as the man slumped to the ground behind her.

“Meffrid!” A woman's voice rang out in pain.

  
  
Fordola wildly wondered for a second if this was the Eorzean summoner but as she turned she saw a different woman rushing across the battlefield towards her. A slender girl, probably of an age similar to Fordola with free flowing blond hair across a red jacket with matched red sabatons adorning her legs. Her body was otherwise largely unarmoured and exposed; she must have caught partly dressed in the attack. Seemingly unarmed and a skull stepped in front of Fordola to intercept her, blade raised high. Fordola had a moment of stunned amazement as the woman smashed him aside like a toy with her (surely reinforced) gloves impacting and crumpling his helm, tossing him aside like a ragdoll.

  
  
Fordola pivoted back as the woman's fists cleaved the air where her head had been a moment before. The woman didn't slow, a powerful kick sliced through the air and Fordola barely avoided it, the shockwave of air brushing her hair back.

  
  
Fordola brought her blade awkwardly around and sliced at the attackers legs but, demonstrating remarkable agility the woman rose high in the air, avoiding the blade.

“Hells take you!” The attacker spat as her, armoured fists thrusting forwards, once, twice, thrice! Fordola managed to avoid the first two but the buckler shield was her last defence for the third and she staggered under the impact. The woman had a punch like a chocobo kick!

  
  
She badly needed to open up some distance, have a chance to set a proper fighting stance but her attackers free flowing martial arts was too quick to allow a pause. The woman spun around in the air, pirouetting, before one armoured leg lanced out which Fordola _just_ managed to catch again on her buckler. The sheer force of the blow sent her skidding across the sands away from her assailant. Her arm rang with the impact; a paper's width in a different direction and her arm would surely have been broken. Nevertheless, her defence had given her the gap she had been looked for.

  
  
For a moment she panted heavily, eyes locked with this strange, defiant womens. She was determined, and strong...but also clearly very rash This couldn't be the Champion of Eorzea could it? The Slayer of Gods? Lord Gaius would never have fallen to someone of this quality...

  
  
“Well...well…”

  
  
That voice...despite the chaos and screams around them, that voice cut through the chaos. It was above this chaos. Both women froze as the mocking tone of Lord Zenos stretched out to them. Fordola turned her head slightly, refusing to lower her guard but she had to see this. The prince stood there, overwhelming in his fearsome armour but calm and relaxed in his gait and poise. As calm as if he were on a relaxing late afternoon stroll.

  
  
“Stand aside, Pilus. This one has promise.” His tone suddenly was hungry, Fordola could hear the hunger bleeding into his voice, lustful for violence.

“Have a care, my lord.” Fordola breathed heavily. This woman _had_ surprised her. She was fast, her punches and kicks were strong and she was clearly, very, very angry. “She’s not like the others.”

  
  
“Hm,” Zenos yae Gaivus seemed to take a shuddering breath at that, pure malice mixing with the excitement. “Do not disappoint me, girl. Or I will kill you.”

  
  
He took a step back and reached for his tri-scabbard. Fordola blinked suddenly as she noticed the scabbard was spinning in motion, the three blades within whirling around before with a clunk it stopped, and Lord Zenos pulled forth the topmost blade with a flourish.

  
  
Was that thing just so he could pick a blade at random?

  
  
Fordola took half a step back, the woman was now focussed entirely on the prince and Fordola thought she heard a distant voice should Zenos’s name in fear and dread from across the battlefield.

  
The woman certainly heard it, for her anger deepend and her face flushed with hatred. “The viceroy? Oh...you are a dead man!” She shouted definitely.

Casting aside any hint of subtlety, any ounce of restraint, the woman charged at Zenos, shouting a bellow of furry. A fist was brought back and pummelled forwards towards his armoured chest. Fordola goggled, the woman was strong but did she really think fists were going to break Lord Zenos? Surely her hands would break before his armour would?

Lord Zenos did not allow the strike to reach his armour, a single gauntleted hand came up, swift as a pugilist and intercepted the fist, throwing it aside. A ricchochating crash from the force she had struck echoed above the general melee for a brief moment as the woman bounced back. Unheeding, she launched a new flurry of blows, faster than the ones she had launched at Fordola a moment ago. Once! Twice!! Thrice!!! Different limbs blurred in a ferocious offensive blaze that Rhalgr himself would have approved of.

  
Lord Zenos did not move his body, his stance was wide as his legs were firm. Just his left arm blurred. Left! Right!! Right again!!! Each crashing attack peerlessly glanced aside with a minimal effort. His sword arm hung limp throughout, he had ample time during this exchange to take her head off. Yet it remained still as he cast his attackers blows aside.

  
  
The woman faltered, and Fordola heard his voice...still mocking, but tinged with a sprinkle of disappointment. “So spirited...and yet so empty.” 

The woman gathered her second wind and tried again, balling her fist in a frecious blow which Zenos again casually caught. This time instead of casting the blow aside he repelled, sending her reeling a dozen paces back. As soon as she fell back, the sword arm came forwards and struck the space between them with such force that she was thrown to the ground, tumbling over again and again, before resting on the sand in abject defeat.

  
  
Fordola watched as Lord Zenos walked forward slowly, the sword came up with inevitable slowless, savouring the moment no doubt. Fordola willed it to come crashing down, but suddenly a white haired miqo’te dashed out of nowhere! With reckless abandon, the miqo’te thrust herself into the path of the blade, and as it came slicing down she propelled both arms up to meet it.

A shimmering, pale blue sphere of energy burst into life between her and the blade, stopping it in a wall of energy mere moments from her body, as she shielded the fallen martial artist.

“Lyse, run!” The miqo’te screamed, her unblinking eyes were screwed in concentration - Fordola saw the shimmering shield illuminate her face and empty eyes - the miqo’te was blind.

  
  
Lyse, if that was the name of the brazen attacker, remained paralyzed on the floor, even as Zenos maintained his grip on the sword as it shuddered in the energy shield. He towered over the two women, his gleaming armour glowing in the shield's reflective light. Pure darkness, armoured and terrible above the two unarmoured women. 

“Ah, a magical barrier. Alas…” The prince’s tone was gleeful, as if he had unwrapped a nameday present and discovered another nameday present remained within. “It will not save you.” He finished, and brought his left hand to the sword's hilt to grasp in both hands. Fordola could see the pressure on the shield increasing, cracks started to appear - the shield itself bled light and then with a final, resounding crack! It splintered into a thousand fragments of light as the blade sliced forward, unimpeded, slicing through the chest of the miqo’te. Blood splashed across her face and welled out of her chest, a look of stumped surprise on her listless face.

  
  
Fordola shared in the prince’s success, but her interest in this sport had passed. Her eyes roved the reach. The lightning was intensifying, illuminating the macabre scenes and the first spots of rain were now beginning to fall.

  
  
It was as Lord Zenos had said, the rebellion was fighting bravely in places, but in the chaos and confusion they were collapsing. She could see a deluge of shadowy figures streaming to the southern exit - where in the distance Fordola could see the two magitek reapers shrouded in fire, cutting down people as they fled. She knew the few members of the XIIth legion would be there, but so few in number could hardly stop such a vast flight of people.

Already, she could see a new cluster of foolish men and women making a stand surrounded by blazing tents and the dead bodies of friends and foes alike. Pushing back the skulls with spears, arrows and swords. Fordola began moving rapidly towards it as the apparent leader of this group, a white haired grizzled vetern, focused on trying to rally his breaking men.

  
  
“Hold the line, by Rhalgr! Hold the line!”

  
  
Fordola approached, almost unnoticed until the last moment. One of the man's comrades spotted her and tried to shout a warning, but it was too late. She brought her blade down in a single motion, cutting cleanly through his back and the leader dropped like a stone.

  
  
The man’s troops, so effective a moment ago now flinched back, crying out in dismay even as the nearby skulls seeing their commander strike the blow redoubled their efforts. The defensive line collapsed and the defenders here fled.

  
  
Fordola watched in elation, the day was won. The last members of the resistance were being swept away, bodies and burning tents littered the ground. It had cost her side without doubt, but this was a great victory against huge odds. With her sword hand she had cut out the weak growth holding back Ala Mhigo from entering the imperial fold. This would be a blow that would end them as a fighting force.

  
  
She allowed the elation to flood through her as her eyes swept the battlefield, taking in the routing people, her victorious skulls, the shadowed reapers in the distance raining fire down on those fleeing.

  
  
Suddenly, she saw a flash of movement by the southern entrance near the reapers and the press of people. There was a burst of blue energy, and in a glimpse between the bodies she saw an egi - its glow unmistakable at this distance on account of the darkness - charging the reaper. The press of people moved and the egi vanished from sight.

  
  
Fordola stood at the back of the camp in front of what must be the rebellion leader's tent and suddenly felt an unease ripple through her even as the thunder rolled ominously.

Her unease increased, as the shadowy outline of the imperial reaper suddenly vanished into a blaze of fire as the reaper collapsed. Moments later the second reaper crumpled and vanished from sight, too far out away to now make out.

Something, or someone, had just taken out two of the Empires advanced magitek units. Whatever it was that had done this, was undoubtedly now on its way back into the reach, towards her and her men!

The first raindrops fell from the sky and splashed off her hair. Biting back the sudden, unexpected feeling of unease, she prepared for whatever was to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been watching various LetsPlays of Stormblood, and the cutscenes to try and keep this loyal to the source material - with some additions.
> 
> Originally the whole scene would have been one chapter, but in this case I've split it into two.
> 
> Chapter 8 is underway, thank you for reading as always and any kudos/comments and so forth :)


	8. The Storm

#  **The Storm**  
  


The rain was intensifying, but the storm had not yet hit Rhalgr’s Reach. Instead it felt poised, on the edge, but holding back on account of the drama unfolding below. The burning tents within the reach spat, as if in defiance of the rain while overhead the thunder crashed and the lightning sparked; providing a suitable backdrop for the events on the ground.

Fordola again peered into the far distance of the reach but it was no good. It was too dark, too far and there was too much general confusion, fire and smoke. However, her instincts as a commander, her knowledge of their position – told her that a counterattack was breaking through the imperial troops Lord Zenos had placed on the southern entrance to the Reach.

She looked round for the prince, where was he? He was nowhere to be seen, confound it! Just the crumpled bodies of his would-be attackers, Lyse and Y’shtola, proved he had been here at all. Both women appeared to be fully concussed, the later was bleeding heavily and would probably be dead before the storm had ended.

A few skulls stood around her, weapons at the ready – many of them bloodied, waiting for their commander to give them orders. “Did anyone see where Lord Zenos went?” She barked at the nearest.

“He was heading up towards the temple above.” The skull replied, Fordola recognised the voice through the mask – Griff, one of the original Ala Mhigan skull orphans she had met all those years ago. “Said there was no further sport to be had down here. If there is a temple above, it would make a good place for the resistance to try and hold up.”

Fordola cursed the prince quietly. Storming barricaded defenders above them was not the priority right now; destroying the enemy directly in front of them was. Even more critically if there was a counterattack coming.

“Griff,” she nodded to her man – he had a good head on his shoulders, she knew that much. “Pull our men back from the southern entrance, get them to fall back on our position and the exit path, pass the order to Hrudolf if you see him.”

“You think somethings coming, commander?” The man asked, surprise evident in his voice. The reach around them was void of living enemies and the tents around burned freely, the smell of blood, ozone and wet sand filled the air. 

“I know something’s coming.” Fordola snapped, urgency creeping into her tone and she cuffed his shoulder firmly to jarr him into motion. “Get it done!”

Griff set off into the shadows and flickering flames and vanished. Fordola squinted into the distance, she thought she could make out the outlines of dozens of people fighting, fleeing…dying.

Her skulls were fierce fighters. Dedicated to her, Ala Mhigo and the Empire, in that order; but their training was limited. They had no discipline, and the majority had chased the fleeing rebels towards the southern entrance without pause. They would not think to reform, reorganise and meet any oncoming enemy in concentrated numbers, nor had she thought to place orders for them to do so. If the Eorzean hero was leading a counterattack, they would encounter her units uncoordinated and running wild.

“Bind that woman!” She shouted at the few men around her, pointing to Lyse. “We’ll take her back with us, a prize to interrogate later.” Her men leapt to obey, she sensed they would all enjoy taking turns to interrogate this pretty girl.

Minutes crept by and more skulls began appearing out of the shadows and flames, falling back as Griff presumably caught up with the leading squads.. Taking stock of the men already with her, she began sending units back to the eastern entrance way – they had bottled up the resistance in here and she would be damned if they were going to turn the tables by cutting off their escape route. 

She noticed the noise and screams were dying down now. The rain, still light for the amount of black, thunderous clouds, continued to hiss as it struck the burning tents. Fordola felt the rain running down her arm and dripping off her sword hand. 

Twelve more skulls stumbled out of the shadows, this time led by Griff and Hrudolf himself. Fordola felt a little bit of tension ebb from her as she recognised her captain. Two of the men with him were badly injured, being carried along by the others. Hrudolf’s glaive had clearly seen plentiful use, an angry red cut was plainly visible on his face with fresh blood streaking his face. This didn't stop him from smartly saluting her as they approached Fordola and her cluster of men. “Report.” Fordola snapped, there was little time for niceties.

“It's chaos out by the southern entrance ma’am.” Griff spoke rapidly. He must be worried, she had never been called ‘ma’am’ by him before. “Enemy reinforcements, seems like a lot of them – mostly Eorzeans are coming up and cutting through our boys. They’re led by Marshal Pippin of the Immortal Flames, he appears to have three bodyguards, two youths of white hair and a third, a summoner."

  
  
Fordola idly ran a finger down the side of her blade subconsciously. “Tell me about the summoner, quickly!”

  
  
“She fights like ten devils Fordola.” Hrudolf spoke, swiping angrily at the blood as it dripped over his eyes. “Saw her cut down three men by herself, couldn't even get near her- she blasted them with rays of magick before they could close on her. Griff found me then with these injured men and I decided my priority was to see them back safely.”

Fordola grunted, deciding not to challenge his thinking. She gestured with her free hand at the cluster of troops Griff had brought back. “Hrudolf! Take the wounded out via the eastern entrance, start an orderly withdrawal while we hold this position, Griff you stay with me.”

  
  
Hrudolfs face twisted in concern. “I can still fight commander! I’m not leaving you to face the Eorzeans alone!”

  
  
Fordola forced a smile, and raised her free hand to place it on his shoulder. “I need a captain to supervise the withdrawal in good order, you’re the one I trust for this.”

  
  
“But…” Hrudolf managed, “why would you stay here?”

  
  
“Prince Zenos is up in the temple above us.” Fordola gestured at the passageway behind the leaders tent they stood by, even as lightning lit up the surrounding area. “We will await his return and then follow you out. Now go!” She snarled firmly, pointing towards the eastern passage. 

Partly her logic was true, she did not think Lord Zenos would be too happy to discover the skulls had fully withdrawn, but also...if there was a chance to settle accounts with Lord Gaius’s killer...

  
  
After a moment's hesitation, Hrudolf turned and waved for the group of eight to follow him as they carefully carried the wounded between them towards the eastern entrance and (Fordola hoped) the larger part of her forces. In the dark and the rain, he was quickly lost from sight.

  
  
Griff remained with her and about a dozen men, including two of her thaumaturges, they all shuffled around restlessly, checking weapons, adjusting facemasks. Fordola sighed with irritation as the thunder rolled and looked up at the massive statue of Rhalgr where she knew the temple hung above them. “Come on you mad prince...don’t leave us hanging here.”

  
  
“Commander!” Griff's voice brought her back to reality. “Is that woman a prisoner?” He pointed over to the bound Lyse, who appeared to be starting to come to.

  
  
Fordola cursed, one that Griff could mistake the bound girl for anyone but a prisoner, and two, because she herself had completely forgotten about Lyse. She should have been dragged off with the first skulls that passed by or at least Hrudolf’s group!

She looked around for a person to give this task to, but then suddenly out of shadows and flame of the south, the summoner appeared.

  
  
She was still a fair distance away, and at first glance, didn't seem very threatening. Slender and remarkably tall for a Hyur woman, she nevertheless wore no obvious armour. Instead she was garbed in loose white robes that accentuated her mobility. Well made, mastercrafted boots rose to her knees and, in place of a weapon of steel, she held a large open tome in her right hand.

  
  
But then, as one looked closer, you could see the steel in her eyes, the purpose in her walk - and the fact that she did not hesitate when approaching a group of a dozen well armed men, Fordola included. In fact, Fordola had the disquieting thought that the approaching summoner hardly viewed them as a threat.

Some other figures appeared behind this woman, two white haired elezen and a tiny lalafell. The lalafell was made far more fearsome by his massive bull-horned helmet, and blooded axe which was almost the size of himself. Nevertheless, Fordola had the numbers.

  
  
“Well, well.” Fordola mocked loudly to her men, projecting strength and confidence to them; even if a part of her did not feel it. “A rescue party is it? We’ll see about that!”

Her two thaumaturges did not need encouraging. Both held crude wooden staves used to direct and channel magicks and each let loose with a sizzling ball of flame. One was targeted at the wider enemy group, the other at the Eorzean champion.

  
  
The first fireball was poorly aimed and splashed on a rock near one of the elzeen, the other fireball however was well aimed at the summoner. Fordola tensed, but instead of seeing the woman burst into fire as she had hoped, the fireball simply melted away around her - she strode through it seemingly unharmed.

  
  
“Take the others.” Fordola snapped at Griff and the others readied weapons. “The summoner is mine!”

  
  
She raised her blade and charged fearlessly, rain splashed in her eyes but Fordola dared not blink as she closed the lengths to her target. This would be for Lord Gaius!

  
  
She was mere seconds from the summoner when the woman weaved a glyph with her free left hand. There was a burst of golden light - a sound of thundering and crashing, and then between Fordola and her target was a blazing, golden egi.

  
  
It was perhaps half the size of Fordola, and it levitated at her head height. A dizzying multitude of rocks of all shapes and sizes that was spinning constantly in motion. The whole creature exuded a golden hue that dominated Fordola’s view. It rumbled and hummed and what may have been eyes set into rock watched her with pitiless inhumanity.

  
  
She cursed, moving too fast to stop - and settled for bringing down her curved sword onto the egi’s ‘body’. Her blade jarred violently and sent vibrations reverberating up her hand as it bit into a large chunk of the animated rock - and stuck fast.

  
  
The rocks that made up this summoned creature suddenly whirled into motion, and a rock the size of Fordola’s head came crashing towards her with terrible speed. At the last second, she managed to yank the sword free and had to dive to the ground to escape this savage blow.

  
  
She rolled on the wet sand, spitting and cursing and the golden mass of rocks was following her! The rocks that made up the egi’s body twirling in the air before coming pummelling down with a mighty force.

  
  
Fordola rolled away in the wet sand, hearing the thud, thud, thud! Impact as the rocks struck where her head had been a moment ago. She bounced and staggered to her feet even as the egi came at her again, filling her view with that terrible golden blaze. She tried to steady her stance and caught a fist-sized rock on her buckler (which did not hit quite as hard as she feared) before slashing impotently at the egi again.

  
  
She tried to look for the summoner, where was she!? But as she tried to look the egi was again driving into her with a new flurry of blows. The terrible golden rocks twisting and swirling, beautiful but terrifying and Fordola backpedalled. Trying to avoid this onslaught and without an obvious means of counterattacking, how do you fight animated rocks?

  
  
She leapt sideways as the egi lurched forwards, and as she did, finally saw the rest of the battlefield.

Half of her men were down, the two elzeen moving gracefully between them, seeming to toy with her mens clumsy efforts to take them down. The lalafell meanwhile, stood atop a dead skull - moving like a blur between two others trying to surround him. The lalafell caught a killing thrust with his ax but that left him vulnerable to the other man who raised his spear for a fatal blow...

  
  
Only for a flare of white energy to smash into his back at the critical moment. The skull crumpled to the ground and Fordola saw the summoner standing casually a few paces away. The tome still opened in her left hand, while her right hand wove graceful glyphs in the air sending bolts of energy at the still standing skulls. She was completely ignoring Fordola and instead focussing on finishing off the rest of the skulls.

  
  
Another skull crumpled to the ground - dead or badly injured, as the energy bolts found him. Fordola could not tell which it was, because again the egi was unrelentingly on her.

  
  
“Hells take you!” Fordola spat, unintentionally quoting Lyse from earlier. The summoner was her target, but this cursed creature kept intercepting her!

  
  
She swung heavy, crude blows at this monster - abandoning all pretense at grace or swordsmanship - just focussing all her efforts on battering this creature into submission.

  
  
The egi took her blows without an attempt at defence or evasion. The rocks shook as Fordola pummelled it. Surely there must be a heart, or a keystone...or something that would knock it out!

  
  
Her lack of defence showed, and two rocks struck her like cannonballs in the side, one partly caught on her buckler - the other struck her cleanly in her right side. She felt her armour crunch and a breath came out in a gasp - but no ribs seemed broken. Gritting her teeth she rang a smashing blow down on the ‘rock’ that seemed to make up the creatures head.

  
  
As her sword smashed down, the creature suddenly glowed like a miniature sun! It blazed, it burned! Fordola dived down as a pillar of golden light expanded where she had been standing a moment ago. 

  
She blinked furiously as her eyes tried to adjust. Where the egi had been there was just wisps on the air. The sand below it however had crystalised and seemed to pulse with energy. Had she killed it? Or had it simply been dispelled? Fordola pulled herself up, wincing at the pain and searched for the summoner and her men - just in time to see Griff die.

  
  
He was one of the last left standing at this point. He was trying to ward off the two elzeen with his buckler when two blasts of searing energy from the summoner struck him cleanly in his right side. He was thrown down, and lay still.

  
  
The summoner turned on Fordola, and Fordola felt the hate build in her - it seared between the few yalms that separated them.

  
  
“Who in the seven hells are you!?” Fordola cursed. She was the last one left standing and in the background of the reach she could see more Eorzeans now appearing. In the night's gloom she could still make out the red flags of Limsa, the yellow of Gridania and the gold of Ul’Dar. The few remaining skulls she could glimpse were in full flight now, back towards the entrance from which they had emerged.

  
  
Fordola judged the space between her and the summoner; around twenty paces. She could close the distance with her before she could summon another pet. While these thoughts ran through Fordola’s head the summoner simply watched her unblinkingly, locking eyes with her. Fordola unwillingly met that gaze, and as she stared into those blue eyes a jolt of shock ran through her.

  
  
Fordola had killed her fair share of insurgents and wider people to get where she was now. It gave her a sense of judging those comfortable with violence and those that weren't - it's how she had been able to judge the luckless Meffid and the woman Lyse as lesser threats…

...But the woman before her now, the champion of Eorzea (if this were her) had clearly dispatched many, many more people then Fordola ever had. It was in her stance, in her eyes, in the casual way she held her tome. This was a woman comfortable in her ability to deliver violence and bloodshed - such that she probably hardly saw the bodies and blood before she moved onto her next target.

  
  
There was a sudden blur of movement; the summoner’s left hand curled back to the tome on her right which glowed with arcane power. Fordola sidestepped right as the blast of energy singed past her hair and then she charged the other woman, raising her sword up high to strike her down.

  
  
The summoner skipped back with surprising grace, easily avoiding her blade. Fordola hacked left and right - but it was if the summoner knew where each blow was going to land before Fordola even struck! Remaining effortlessly ahead of all of Fordola’s efforts even as Fordola swung again and again with savage strength. Again and again the summoner smoothly stepped clear at the last second and Fordola’s frustrations increased.

  
  
She swung a blow at the woman's legs but she darted back and, as Fordola struggled to right herself, the summoner's hand blurred an arcane symbol and Fordola suddenly felt her limbs tighten, her breath was suddenly heavy and ragged. Her whole body felt sluggish, as if she had just awoken from a deep sleep - her head buzzed - she could hardly focus!

  
  
Fordola struggled in pace, trying to remain standing and focussed on the summoner, even as she clawed her free hand and brought down the tome in a sharp, cutting motion through the air.

  
  
A hair's breadth was all that saved her then. Fordola sluggishly brought up her buckler as above her a weave of air seemed to crack down with terrible force, it made a sound like a whips crack and the force of the blow pushed Fordola back, away from the summoner.

  
  
Her whole body ached and yeaned to rest. She felt as if she had been pummeled mentally in addition to the physical pummelling by the egi earlier. The distance between her and the summoner was now much greater now, perhaps thirty paces. The other woman was watching her cooly, now standing between her and the prisoner Lyse and the other fallen enemy. In the background she could see the elzeen and another figure tending to their fallen, a glow of magical healing lighting the night.

  
  
She cursed, what could she do? But then she heard a noise. The chink of armoured Garlean boots; strangely loud, overwhelming the noise of fighting, the spitting of the last flames in the rain and distinct from the rolling thunder overhead.

  
  
Lord Zenos was striding towards her, his blade held casually at one side, blood flecks on his armour. No haste in his footstep, no fear in his stride, just purpose.

  
  
“My lord!” Fordola called out as he approached, hardly daring to take an eye off the summoner. “The prisoners!”

  
  
“See to your men, Pilus.” Lord Zenos’s filtered voice through the mask was calm but underlaid with menace aimed at the Eorzeans.

  
  
She looked back and noticed several of her men that had engaged the wider group were still alive, just injured. Trying to move away, dragging themselves in the sand. Griff was not one of them, he remained still on the ground. 

“Uh…” Fordola’s head still felt hazy from whatever spell the summoner had cast at her, but it was clear Lord Zenos expected to obey and she stamped her feet to try and reawaken her body. “As you command, my lord.” She sheathed her sword to reduce the weight on her arm and stepped back as Zenos took her position, facing the summoner.

  
  
One of her men was nearby, propped up against a nearby rock cradling his arm which bore obvious ax wounds. She helped the man to his feet even as she heard Lord Zenos address the summoner casually behind her. “Your friends were a disappointment. But you…you will entertain me, will you not?”

  
  
She looked back as she walked away supporting the injured skull. The summoner had been joined by one of the elzeen, a feisty looking female with a rapier; and the lalafel with the bull horns and the terrible ax.

  
  
Fordola tore her gaze away and moved faster now, supporting the limping skull back towards the entranceway. As she walked she felt the malign weight on her body reduce, the buzzing in her head cleared and she began to move easier. After a few moments of thankfully uninterrupted shuffling she could finally make out the passageway. She was gratified to see Hrudolf had set up a strong perimeter line around it with a score of skulls well established in a loose formation, most with bows. The ground before them was littered with dead Eorzeans who had tried to dislodge them, she could see more hiding back, among the wreckage of tents and stone columns further to the south. Thankfully they seemed overly cautious, and it looked like they were trying to build sufficient numbers before another push.

  
  
Hrudolf saw her coming and brought two men out to her who took the wounded man between them. Fordola turned to go back and Hrudolfs hand closed around her wrist.

  
  
“We’ve got to pull out now!” He said urgently, even as another peel of thunder cracked the sky. “Where’s Lord Zenos?”

  
  
“Fighting the Eorzean hero!” She shouted back over aftershock, yanking her arm free of his grip. “Stay here and hold the exit! I’m going back for more of our wounded.”

  
  
Before Hrudolf had a chance to stop her she was rushing back the way she had come. Dancing aside bodies and around burning tents, she carried through the rain and the night.

  
  
She saw Lord Zenos first. He was standing firm, the elzeen and the lalafell lay on the ground, she was not sure if they were dead or alive. The summoner still stood however, and was flinging arcs of energy at the prince who either sidestepped them, or allowed them to impact on his armour with seemingly no effect as he slowly stalked his target.

  
Fordola switched her focus to two more of her walking wounded who were trying to put some distance between them and the fight. She bent down and helped one, and then the other up, who could thankfully then stand unaided.

  
  
“You’re going to be fine.” She muttered, supporting the more badly wounded one with her arm. She turned her head back to call out to Lord Zenos but stopped.

  
The Garlean prince was now less than a dozen paces from the summoner. Fordola watched as the woman traced a glyph with her left hand and there was a blaze of fire between them. Another egi appeared, of a similar size to the animated golden rocks of earlier, but this one was burning flame itself, animated and alive.

  
  
It rushed at Lord Zenos and the prince was almost hidden from view momentarily by the burst of fire that seemed to engulf him...then through the inferno, Fordola saw his blade come swiping down in one clean, unhurried motion. 

It passed straight through the summon, without hesitation or resistance and the egi disintegrated and vanished in a puff of smoke. The blast of energy created by the sword swing smashed into the summoner behind and she cried out, the first noise Fordola had heard her make, as she was thrown head over heels before crashing on her rump in a heap. The tome somehow remaining clasped in her right hand.

  
  
Lord Zenos remained poised, his blade still outstretched before him. Fordola stared at the prince, drinking in the power he exuded. As she stared, she suddenly saw the end of the blade sheer off right in front of her.

Lord Zenos stood and eyed the fallen summoner. “Pathetic,” Fordola could almost see the prince's contemptuous expressions through his helmet as he said it. He tossed the broken, now useless blade aside like a discarded toy and turned to Fordola supporting the two injured men.

  
  
“Lets go Pilus.” Lord Zenos said as he swept alongside her and Fordola turned, and hurried alongside him, not casting a backwards gaze at the fallen hero.

  
  
For a moment they retreated in silence, the only sound was the distant thunder and the tinkle of rain on the prince’s armour. No Eorzean made to stop them, although Fordola could feel their eyes watching them from the shadows as they exited. The rain was starting to ease up, but still overhead the thunder and lightning clashed in the night sky.

  
  
“Did...did you kill her my lord?” Fordola asked as she shuffled along with the two injured skulls.

  
  
“No Pilus,” Lord Zenos replied, striding alongside her. “If that is the level of Eorzea’s champion, then I have no interest in putting down a dog.”

  
  
The entranceway came into view and more skulls emerged to help the wounded and they fell back through the tunnel. No-one dared follow them.

\---

“Most of mine were in no fit state to return to Ala Mhigo at that time.” Fordola continued to the court, the flag of Ala Mhigo proudly billowing behind them. “Without the magitek reapers the baggage train and supplies were lost to us, likewise almost half of mine were walking wounded. We made for Specula Imperatoris, arriving just as the sun began to rise. My men and I camped inside the walls and licked our wounds while Lord Zenos vanished inside the fortress. Late in the afternoon a convoy of a magitek armour appeared pulling wagons - Lord Zenos reappeared, still in his armour and ordered me to load the men aboard. It wasn't comfy, but by next nightfall we could see the lights of Ala Mhigo in the distance.”

  
  
Fordola stopped talking. When none of the court spoke up she cleared her throat. “What kept you from pursuing us? You could have overran us before we reached the Specula Imperatoris - was it just the fear of Lord Zenos that kept you back?”

  
  
Rabaun answered that - the grizzled vetern folded two scared arms before him, his gaze steady. “There had been enough death that day, we focussed on seeing to our wounded as well.”

  
  
“Why?” Fordola asked, genuinely curious. “Surely you had the numbers to overwhelm Lord Zenos. Failing to prevent our withdrawal left us with the victory that day.”

  
  
“That was no victory!” Lyse banged the tablet, her nostrils flaring. “It was butchery! Over two hundred resistance members lost their lives that night, twice that number were injured. The temple Zenos ransacked was full of the bodies of defenceless women and men. Many were killed fleeing the confusion, cut down by the imperials and the magitek reapers by the southern entrance. If the Warrior of Light and Eorzean reinforcements hadn't cut them down as they entered the reach, the casualties could have been far worse.” 

“Aye, well your Warrior of Light cut through them like butter easy enough.” Fordola remarked, not looking at the Warrior off to one side. “You are quick to demonize Zenos, but I would not be surprised if your hero had the blood of many more on her hands.”

  
  
At this she couldn't help glazing at the Warrior. She was sitting stoically enough, arms folded before her - but her eyes looked sad. The aether continued to swirl seerenly around her.

“I’ve heard enough of this butchery, let's move on.” Admiral Merlywyb spoke up, rubbing her head with one vast hand. “A few weeks later Zenos relocated to the far east. Before he did so, what were his actions, what can you tell us of your conversations with him?

  
  
“Oh yes.” Fordola grinned at that. “Before he left the city, there was the anniversary celebrations of Solus zos Galvus’s establishment of the Garlean Empire. It was Lord Zenos’s last public engagement before he departed the city for the Far East, quite the occasion that.”

  
  
“Tell us. “ The seedseer now spoke up, her ethereal voice not betraying any emotion within it. “Did anything of note happen on that last day?”

  
  
“There was a grand ball.” Fordola thought back, remembering the night - the fine wine, the prince, the poison...and Mattenix… “Three attempts at murder,” she continued, continuing them off on her finger dramatically. “Compared to facing your foe face to face in the reach, bloodshed at the royal ball with hidden enemies proved quite different...let me tell you…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hard...hard to write this one. Especially as I was keen to model combat against a summoner in this case, hmm...
> 
> Thank you for reading, we're off to a ball in the next! (aiming for weekly releases now, we shall see)


	9. The Invitation

#  **The Invitation**

“I’m afraid I don’t quite understand you...commander.” Mattenix drawled the last words, rolling the ‘r’ on his tongue, stroking his white whiskers as if in amusement. “You mean to tell me, your fine countryman...the Crani Lupi...were unable to apprehend the suspect?”

  
  
Fordola remained standing, balefully staring down at the commander of the Garlean garrison who reclined comfortably in his chair behind his hardwood desk. His quarters were grand, well lit and the walls were lined with trophies taken from past victories. Ornate headdresses, unfamiliar banners, a crown of emeralds and much more testifying to some fifty years of service to Garlemald.

  
  
“My men were unable to find the rock thrower in the market.” Fordola ground out for the second time, her voice sounded strained - even to her. “Whoever had thrown the rocks at the plenipotentiary for Kugane was probably aiming at the Garlean honour guard, rather than the man himself.”

  
  
“You’re missing the point...commander.” Mattenix reached forwards and took a generous chug of the red wine goblet resting on the table, smacking his lips loudly. “The Crani Lupi were there to manage the crowd and you failed. The Crani Lupi were there to capture any troublemakers...and you failed. What does that say to the plenipotentiary for Kugane?”

  
  
He waited and Fordola stood in place, seething. Mattenix allowed a further moment, toying with the wine goblets edge with one long, weathered finger before gracing Fordola with a condescending smile. “Kugane is a proud nation with which the Empire needs to maintain good relations with. To bungle the arrival of their representative on the eve of this night's important celebrations, is unacceptable. To fumble relationships with the far east as the region pivots towards instability again, is unacceptable. Twud’ have been kinder if the rock had struck the plenipotentiary. At least then we could have lied to him on recovery and said the savage who threw the rock was detained and killed, as he should have been.”

“The crowds were too large, and my men too thin.” Fordola continued to grind her teeth, yearning to spit in this man's face. The worst bit was there was a grain of truth to it, her men should have better managed the crowd - they should have stopped or caught the rock thrower. But between the hostile crowds and the limited Crani Lupi in the city, it had been a job not suited to them.

  
  
Almost as if they had been set up to fail.

“Ever since the debacle at Rhalgrs Reach it's a wonder you still walk the palace.” Mattenix sniffed loudly. “A dozen dead Garleans, thrice that many wolves and two magitek reapers...how you retain the good favour of Lord Zenos I will admit to not knowing.” He favoured Fordola with a sudden, lecherous leer, his wizened eyes roving over her loose leather armour. Admiring where the buckles clasped around her arms, where her loose hide faulds opened at her waist… he smiled at her, a sly smile. “Although I would hazard a guess I know how you retain our prince's favour...”

  
  
Fordola trembled with anger. She was familiar with his casual racism, his contempt and disregard for her life and those that served under her, but this was a new low. She forced it down as best as she could, biting her lip and managing to half mangle a curt response. “Is there anything else...General?”

  
  
Mattenix smiled and dismissively waved at her, savoring the moment. “No, see to it the only Ala Mhigans at the ball tonight are servants and nothing else - I don’t want the evenings entertainment to be...contaminated.”

  
  
Fordola did not even offer the most contemptuous of salutes, instead she spun on her heels and marched to the door. As her hands closed on the ornate carved handle she heard Mattenix call out. “One more thing, commander…”

  
  
She didn't want to turn, or if she did it would be in one smooth motion - her blade flying from her arm to sever his neck in one clean cut. Taking a deep breath she turned and Mattenix had raised the goblet of wine to her in one hand, a mock salute, smiling widely at her. “You may hold the favour of Lord Zenos for now...but tomorrow he leaves for Doma on account of increased insurgency in the area.”

  
  
Dismay gripped her breast at the news that her patron would be departing the city. “Your point general?” Fordola tried to cover the disappointment that must have shown for Mattenix’s smile widened.

  
  
“I will be acting-viceroy again until his return.” He swirled the wine around in one hand, making a show of sniffing at the vapors. “You should have a long think about how you can best earn my...good favours in the coming nights. I would hate to see anything unfortunate happen to you.”

  
  
Fordola turned, yanked on the door and strode out - slamming it hard enough to make the Garlean guards on either side to visibly flinch. She composed herself for a moment, breathing ragged as the guards watched her. She then stormed away, down the palace hall, brooding.

\---

“He must die.” Fordola repeated in the security of her own office with her trusted captains. “Not just for how he debases us and our people, but also because he is so obviously a wall between us and closer tiers to the Empire.”

  
  
Ansfrid, now fully recovered from his wound received just a few paces away, nodded. Hrudolf next to him, the angry red scar from the battle at Rhalgrs Reach prominant across his face said nothing. Emelin waited, continuing to hold the large black box that he had carried into Fordola’s cramped quarters. 

“All here will agree that the general is a repugnant man.” Hrudolf offered, somewhat slowly. “He is nevertheless an able viceroy and a qualified general. Even assuming we were able to do such a thing undetected it would destabilize the Garlean chain of command in the whole region, it could return the initiative to the rebellion.”

  
  
Ansfrid shook his head at that, balling his right fist into his left palm. “I’m with Fordola, the man is a menace and a terrible racist, even by Garlean standards. As to the rebellion, well - after the slaughter of the Eorzean forces at Castrum Occulus the other week - it's all quiet. Why a rumour is even their vaunted Warrior of Light has abandoned them, she has not been spotted for days.”

  
  
A silence fell at that, Fordola tisked and turned to Emelin who was scratching at a half-grown ginger bear that was steadily encroaching across his face. “Em, you said you had discovered something in your investigations of the attack on myself and Ansfrid before we departed for Rhalgrs Reach?”

  
  
“Ah yes!” The youngest of her captains eyes lit up and he brought the box to Fordola’s small table that separated her from her captains. “It took a while…” He began, fiddling with the clasps. “But this might help encourage your course of action commander.”

  
  
He opened the box carefully. Inside glistened a Garlean gunblade - a shorter model then the usual gunblade Fordola was familiar with seeing. The normal straight blade was replaced with numerous curved blades of glistening steel that jagged out. The gun cartridge was smaller, it looked to only hold three rounds...

  
  
“And what does this tell us?” Hrudolf asked, gesturing at the weapon.

  
  
Emelin tapped his nose with a sly smile, clearly enjoying and anticipating this question. “This is a hauteclaire revolver.” He said with relish, “Quite a rare weapon actually. Favoured by some Garleans for its smaller size, quieter action and its appearance, a frightening weapon really - produced in Landis, a Garlean colony in central Ilsabard.”

  
  
“And…?” Hrudolf didn't look impressed at Emelins eagerness to share some of his fascination and knowledge of worldly weaponry. Fordola for her part stayed silent. While Ansfrid made for her fearless & knowledgeable second in command, and none could match Hrudolf in the field of battle; Emelin was probably the smartest of her captains. He was knowledgeable, good at people management and handled most of the day-to-day interactions with the Garlean military, arranging the Crani Lupi’s logistics and supplies with a deft touch. If he had a point, it would be a good one.

  
  
“...and,” Emelin allowed a smile. “Landis just happens to be where our friend General Mattenix is from. His whole personal guard are men hand picked from Landis, none of the Lord Zenos’s XIIth legion are from the area (far as I know), it has to be a man acting under Mattenix’s orders!”

  
  
“That much is obvious.” Ansfrid nodded, turning to Fordola. “This is not proof of the generals attempt to remove a stain on his command. However we must strike him down before he makes a second attempt. The question is, how?”

  
  
There was silence in the cramped room. Fordola had numerous delightful ideas running through her head. Pushing him from a palace balcony, poisoning his beloved wine, cutting him bit by bit with a rusted knife...then suddenly a banging on the door snapped her out of her revere and caused her captains to jump.

  
  
“Enter!” Fordola shouted and one of the three Crani Lupi guards stationed outside, to ward off any evesdroppers, walked in with a bound scroll.

  
  
He saluted and offered it to Ansfrid. “Message from a palace runner, from the office of Lord Zenos himself.”

  
  
Fordola nodded and the guard withdrew, shutting the door behind him. She turned back to Ansfrid who was examining the scroll in his hand, checking the waxy seal of Lord Zenos was still intact. “Read it.” Fordola invited him, she had no secrets to hide from her captains. 

  
  
Ansfrid, after a moment's indecision, passed it across to Emelin. “You read it Em.” He muttered, looking away from Fordola. “I’ll just mess up the words, you’ve actually learnt all your letters.”

  
  
Emelin took it with a smile and broke the seal, unfurled the thick paper. His eyes scanned the words and then widened. His eyes ran down the paper a second time and his expression did not change, in fact - it got more incredulous. He looked up at Fordola, his mouth opened and closed reflectively.

  
  
“Read it.” Fordola urged, resisting the need to stride across the room and rip it from his hands.

  
  
Emelin looked down at the scroll again, and read aloud in crisp tones:

_Written by the Lord Chamberlain to Prince Zenos of Garlemald, Legatus of the XIIth Imperial Legion, Subjugator of Doma, Nalbina, Falu-Varius & Balfonheim, Viceroy of Ala Mhigo. _

_Addressed to Fordola rem Lupis, Commander of the Crani Lupi_

_You are cordially invited to attend tonight's ball celebrating the LVth anniversary of the foundation of the Garlean Empire. Guests are to arrive from sunset in the Royal Menagerie ballroom._

_Formal attire._

_You are permitted to bring one retainer._

_Nos sumus manus, nos sumus deus._

Fordola’s eyes boggled and her tone dramatically increased. “A ball!! Lord Zenos thinks I have any interest in attending a ball!?”

  
  
Hrudolf ripped the paper from Emelin and stared at it while the younger man, having judged it safe to do so, collapsed into gales of laughter, clutching at his sides.

“I can’t read this fancy script either!” Hrudolf remarked, tossing it to Ansfrid who scrunched up his eyes to try and make out the words, as if searching for a lie or joke hidden within them.

 _  
_“Curse that man!!” Fordola slammed the wall with her fist, her whole arm reverberated with the movement. “Why would he do that? Only Garleans and honoured overseas guests are going to be at the ball - having an Ala Mhigan at the ball will cause an uproar!”

  
  
“He hardly gives you much notice, especially since one can hardly refuse such an invitation.” Ansfrid placed the now crumpled letter on the table in front of Fordola who glared at it balefully. 

“Nonsense.” Fordola snapped back at him. “I’ll get my things and we can depart on an urgent patrol of the Lochs, I’ll apologise when we get back the following day!”

  
  
“Commander that would not be wise.” Hrudolf was staring at the crumpled letter as well, perhaps willing it to burst into fire. “The Garlean runner will confirm the message has been received, refusing such an invitation could lead to repercussions.”

  
  
Ansfrid looked up at the small window high above, and the light that shone through it. “It's early afternoon now…” He mused. “Forgive me commander, but what do you make of the request for formal attire?”

“Isn't it obvious??” Emelin weezed, tears in his eyes. “Women only have the choice of a dress...a...dress for our commander!”

  
  
Fordola whacked him on the chest hard and Emelin went down like a pile of rocks, giggling helplessly all the way. Ansfrid and Hrudolf stood grimly to attention as she turned to stare at the stone wall - willing herself to blend into the rock and hide.

  
  
“Do you...er...have formal attire ma’am?” Hrudolf hesitated and Fordola turned on him and must have fixed him with such a murderous look for he quailed before her.

  
  
“Hrudolf...” She started as Emelin struggled back to his feet, wiping the tears of mirth away from his eyes. “Have you ever seen me wear anything other than this armour? I have no silks, no fine garments, no _dresses_.” She fixed Emelin with an icy barb at the last...but then an idea came to her head, it blossomed there, fully formed and she felt a half smile appear.

  
  
“Mattenix will be at the ball...aye...and he’ll be furious if I attend…” She ran the idea through her head, and then fixed Hrudolf with a gaze. “Hrudolf, you’re familiar with the Ala Mhigan black market...I near a small vial of mosfungus extract...can you get it?”

  
  
“You mean to poison Mattenix at a royal ball?” Hrudolf’s face blanched, but then as the cogs turned he nodded. “I can get some, it's odorless, tasteless and its effects are not immediate - slip it into the general's beloved wine and he would die a deeply painful death before sunset the next day. Almost nobody survives it.”

  
  
“Good.” Fordola nodded. “Emelin.” She snapped sharply at her captain who threw a wobbly salute, fixing his serious face. “It's your lucky day, you get to play my retainer for the evening - you’re the only one here that can play the part of being nice with the nobility.”

  
  
“What about me?” Ansfrid asked, eyes narrowing until Fordola fixed him with a sardonic grin.

  
  
“You Ansfrid,” She bared some teeth for her second in command. “Get to go dress shopping.”

  
  
\---

“Wait, wait, wait.” Lyse stood up and gave Fordola an incredulous look. “At this point our friend was in Doma raising hells and Lord Zenos was throwing a ball...and he invited you!??” She clearly couldn't believe it.

  
  
Fordola smirked at the other woman. “Messages are slow to arrive from the far east. There wasn't yet an indicator that there was anything more then a minor unrest. It's not surprising you have not heard of the anniversary, being outside of Garlean circles, tis a major feature of the Garlean calendar. Lord Zenos would be expected to play the host, be seen by the high born of Garlemald and other neighbouring nations friendly to the Empire. A lot of politics would be going on at this event.”

  
  
“But...but why would he invite you?” Lyse stammered.

  
  
“Probably because he thought it would make things more interesting.” Fordola replied, this she knew for a fact. “A proud savage in his service, at his ball, with his guests? Mayhaps something amusing would happen - as it did, in fact.”

  
  
“We see the face of Garlean lassitude.” Rabuan snorted. “The people of Ul-Dar would not stand for such nonsense in a time of war. The majority of our citizens would find such a sight...distasteful.”

  
  
“Garlemald is not a republic, it is an empire of traditions, founded on a detailed class structure.” Fordola raised an eyebrow at the general. “Besides, if your total of citizens is 100 and you buy the votes of 51 among them - you can make it rule by majority and wouldn't that make everything neat?”

  
  
“Enough.” Admiral Merlywb interjected. “We’re not here to argue politics, get back to your telling - what happened at the ball?”

_\---_

_  
_  
A crude curtain had been found and drawn up in Fordola’s chambers while Ansfrid briefed her, his back turned to the curtain facing the door as Fordola fiddled with the dress he had procured.

  
  
“I’ll have 50 men on hand.” Ansfrid was recounting as Fordola fiddled with straps and blasted pieces of lace. “They will be deployed around the Royal Menagerie and running a picket between it and the wider city. I’ve also bribed a squad of Garleans by an eastern side door. They will be replaced by a squad of our men until midnight when the Garleans will resume their post. If you need to make a hasty escape - remember the eastern exit is the one we have secured.”

  
  
“Good work!” Fordola called out as she battled the flimsy, silken dress. With no mirror or servant girls to assist her it was difficult! Then again she had not anticipated ever being in this position... “Where did you...where did you get this _thing_ from in the end?”

  
  
“Er...the Ala Mhigan quarter.” Ansfrid sounded nervous, for it had taken him a considerable amount of time. “An old man sold it to me. Said her daughter never had a chance to wear it - I don’t think he knew who I was; but the price was low and the quality looked high.”

  
  
Fordola padded and tugged the dress down until it flowed smoothly to the floor. She tried to tug the bodice up, over her chest a bit more and was dismayed when the flimsy silk hardly moved. “I can’t wear this thing…” she muttered and grumbled. “Better walk naked into a pit of vipers…”

  
  
“Focus on what you are there to do.” Ansfrid advised unhelpfully. “Regardless of the intention behind the invitation, this is a great honour, and a testimony to your promise to see Ala Mhigans stand alongside Garleans.” He let out a bark of laughter, slightly forced. “Of course, you are there to kill another Garlean, so it's a strange set of affairs to be sure.”

  
  
Fordola sighed, looking down over herself and fiddled with the thin slip under the dress so it was a feather more comfortable. “It's a good job Emelin can serve as my ‘retainer’ - there are few places one can hide a vial of poison in this thing.”

  
  
She turned and pulled aside the curtain and addressed Ansfrid’s back. “Well...get it over with, terrible or not?” Gods, she didn't mean her tone to be so harsh!

  
  
Ansfrid turned, and did a very obvious double take, his eyes going as wide as Emelins had earlier this day reading the letter. 

Fordola was wearing a dress of pure ivory, glowing in the faint light coming through the overhead window. The top half of the dress was in the style of Dalmasca (not that Ansfrid knew this) and it flowed from Fordola’s angular shoulders before crossing below her breasts with a generous neckline. The dress was long and flowing, almost down to the floor, hiding Fordola’s plain black boots. The dress’s lower half resembled a peacock dress, elaborate lace detail along the sides showing Fordola’s muscular legs and flowing golden ribbons and beads at the front to draw further attention.

It was breathtaking and Ansfrid blushed deeply even as Fordola scowled at him. “Well, get on and say it!”

  
  
“It's lovely Fordo...er commander.” Ansfrid managed, trying to keep his eyes up, and not letting them drift down. “No Garlean will be able to ignore you tonight.”

  
  
Fordola allowed a brief smile to cross her face at her captain's sincerity. She wasn't to know this; but when she smiled her entire figure transformed. Ansfrid saw her not just as his commander, but as a woman of beauty. Her Garlean facial tattoos somehow accentuating her fierce femininity, more so than any powders or paints ever would. Her toned body and arms were on full display, it spoke of the strength, beauty and the vitality of Ala Mhigo.

  
  
It was an image Ansfrid would cherish until his death.

  
  
Fordola twisted her lip at the strange expression Ansfrid was making and the moment passed. “It's time to go!” She snapped him out of his thoughts. “Emelin better be ready - I’m not going to add to this farce by being late!”

  
  
Wordlessly Ansfrid stood to one side and opened the door and Fordola swept past him without a backwood look even as he stared at her toned back on full display down to the waist. 

\---

Emelin had made a valiant attempt at scrubbing up. His ginger beard had been trimmed back, his loose hair lightly shaved and hidden under an orange turbane. He was attired in smart, tanned armour with an orange trim which flowed all the way to his collar before being taken up by the turban.

Fordola led him up the steps towards the entranceway of the Royal Menagerie. The sky was crimson as the sun peeked over the far walls of Ala Mhigo. The air was warm and the sound of music was floating on the breeze from the ornate entrance hall ahead. On either side of the steps - rows of Garlean guards stood on hand in glinting armour silently. Ahead and behind other noble guests flowed towards the entrance, giving Fordola, Emelin and the trailing six members of the Crani-Lupi guard led by Ansfrid a wide berth.

  
  
“What exactly am I supposed to be doing when we enter, er, commander?” Emelin asked as he walked respectfully close behind, the vial deep in his breast pocket.

  
  
“Serve as my retainer.” Fordola hissed back, still feeling in a foul mood and having to continue hitching her dress on either side to avoid embarrassing herself on the steps. “That means mingling with the other retainers around the parties edge, bringing me drink, gossip and any invitations from the other guests to converse with them.” She stopped and checked nobody was close enough to overhear. “When the time’s right, you will slip me the vial of mosfungus...subtly…and if I can’t do it, you’ll have to Em.”

  
  
Emelin nodded, determination etched in his jawline, if not the rest of his face. Gods! His eyes were wide and his expression planly eager to be attending a royal ball, too starry eyed this one, but he was committed to the cause. 

He was so young, they were all too young for this.

  
  
She turned and made it the last few steps to the grand entrance to the Royal Menagerie. A number of finely dressed courtiers stood on hand, one held a platter of fine silver goblets, bubbling with liquid gold. Fordola dropped her dress back into place and grasped one. Before the platter could be withdrawn Emelin darted forwards and grabbed one himself.

  
  
“Em…” Hissed Ansfrid who had come up to join them at the entrance, the skulls sizing up the nearby guards. “That's not for retainers!”

  
  
“Shh…” Emelin grinned back at the older man, who was dressed in the everyday armour of the Crani-Lupi. “This could be my only chance to experience fine Garlean wine.” He took a deep sip of the golden liquid and made a face. “Tastes like no wine I recognise...far too...bubbly.”

  
  
“Commander.” Ansfrid turned to Fordola. “Good luck. I will rejoin our men at the lower stairs...and remember,” he hissed so only she could hear. “The eastern exit before midnight if you need a swift escape.”

  
  
“Thank you Ansfrid.” Fordola nodded, taking deep breaths and trying not to focus on how her bare skin suddenly prickled with anticipation. She wanted to do this, to create a scene, to see the Garlean nobility in their natural environment, and if possible - bring down her enemy. She swept past the royal servants into the soft warm light of the entranceway, following the sound of music and conversation to her new battlefield.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally going to be just one chapter, but as the chapter steadily got longer and longer I (somewhat reluctantly) decided to split it into two.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! Something a little different...
> 
> Thank you for reading


	10. The Ball

#  **The Ball**

The ballroom of the Royal Menagerie was a spectacular venue, even Fordola felt her breath taken away from her.

  
  
It was a vast chamber, with a great arched roof lined with delicate, intricate designs. The entire room was crafted from white rock of various shades which glowed with a soft light, generated by dozens of ambient lights placed strategically along the walls. A grand dance floor filled the center and was surrounded by immaculate tables and chairs, neatly divided by soaring marble pillars.

  
  
At the far end of the room, across the dance floor was a raised stage on which was set a vacant throne chair. To one side of the stage, a 12 piece band was playing unusual flute and string instruments that mixed traditional Garlean martial tunes with Ala Mhigan melodies.

  
  
The room was already filled with seemingly hundreds of nobles, the women sparkled in gold, silver, bronze, ruby and emerald ball gowns. The accompanying men almost all dressed in smart black Garlean military dress uniforms. Servants and retainers flitted around the tables and at the edge of the dance floor, bearing crystal glasses and plates of delicate foods.

Despite the sun only having just set, the dance floor was already busy with couples moving gracefully; stepping left and right with elegant poise and motion - many even seeming to be deep in conversation while doing it. Many of the men dancing and mingling around the edge of the dance floor had prominent Garlean third eyes proudly displaying their true bloodline.

  
  
Fordola shuffled forwards. The last week had seen many Garleans arrive in the city for this event, no doubt hoping to ingratiate themselves with the prince, but so many? She aimed for the nearest corner with Emelin stepping eagerly at her side. As she moved a ripple of people turning to look at her moved through the hall, necks were craned, hands moved to mouths to disguise words, women clustered together in tighter circles.

  
  
“Gods what are we doing here!?” Fordola grumbled, forcing herself not to scowl or slink back to the front door. She felt so out of place here, her hand itched for the sword that was not at her side (although a small dagger was buckled as inconspicuously as possible on her lower calf).

  
  
“Stop walking towards the corner.” Emelin hissed back. He at least was walking with a fixed smile on his face. “There is a spare table slightly to your right, head for that instead.”

  
  
Fordola reluctantly did as he suggested, a large round table for twelve with elegant table flower centerpieces was vacant (or had suddenly been made vacant). She moved to the corner furthest from the busy dance floor and pulled back the chair before Emelin could do so.

  
  
“Sorry…” She muttered, as she tried to sit down gracefully, attempting to ignore the looks and how she could keep hearing the word ‘Ala Mhigan’ and ‘Savage’ being hissed hither and thither.

  
  
“Not to worry m’lady.” Emelin bowed. He seemed to be enjoying his role. “I will find you a drink and refreshments...while also looking for our friend, the good general.”

  
  
He swept off before Fordola could stop him. She was left alone at the table, clusters of Imperial glory giving the table a wide berth, as if an invisible barrier was being projected from her body. The music picked up a gentle waltz and the reverie continued.

  
  
She signed, and looked out of the nearest glass window that rose from the floor almost to the ceiling. It afforded a spectacular view onto the gardens of the Royal Menagerie. Although the last vestiges of ruby sunlight were rapidly fading, the gardens were nevertheless lit by thousands of candles. She wondered if there were any captive animals out there? Apart from the candles and beautiful flowers, the only other detail of note was a huge tarpaulin that obscured an object far in the distance, that must have been the size of a large building. She wondered briefly what it could be, a statue perhaps that might offend Garlean sensibilities?

  
  
“ _Ahem_!” She jumped at the slight cough at her side, her right hand already reaching to her waist...and touching smooth silk rather than the reassuring press of her blade hilt.

  
  
A man had approached her, quite unawares. Tall, prim and dressed in dark black robes with a red trim, his face seemed too large for the body it sat on. A black mustache curled around, almost touching the base of the man’s razor sharp eyes which were viewing Fordola with some amusement behind silvery half moon spectacles.

  
  
“An Ala Mhigan? Why I feared I was one of the only foreigners here!” His voice was extremely well spoken, yet strangely sibilant; a curious twang she could not immediately place.

  
  
Fordola eyed the man, careful not to scowl. “Strange of you to call me a foreigner in my own city.”

  
  
The man abruptly clapped his hands together and beamed with a strange smile. “Yes, quite right, quite right, I do apologise.” He bowed low and theatrically. “I am Sachou Takamichi, plentipoterian of Kugane, at your service.”

  
  
Fordola inclined her head slightly, uncomfortably out of her depth.

  
  
“You must be the feared Fordola rem Lupis, commander of the Crani Lupi yes?” The man probed, leaning forwards and looking down his glasses conspiratorially.

  
  
Fordola shrugged, an uncomfortable motion with bare shoulders and just a flimsy piece of silk across her front. “Aye.” 

“Most impressive,” The man leaned back and he smiled broadly. “Yes, even in the far east your prowess is known. Why, members of the Sekiseigum inquired about travelling with me, to see you and yours in action!”

  
  
“The...er...sekseigume?” Fordola mangled the word, probably looking thoroughly confused and the man smiled and winked, leaning forwards again. “I will send them your kind regards, perhaps one day you will be able to travel out to Kugane? I would be honoured to show you around The Ruby Bazaar, Kogane Dori - perhaps even the Bokaisen Hot Springs mmm?”

  
  
“Er...sure.” Fordola managed weekly, it all sounded gibberish to her but it seemed to satisfy Sachou who straightened up and started looking around again.

  
  
“Tell me…” He mused aloud, still looking around. “Are there any Ananta here tonight? Perhaps the Qalyana tribe? I understand they have an agreement with the Garleans?”

Fordola shook her head firmly, they were rarely seen in the city. “The local beastmen? No, they would be even less welcome than myself.” 

The Kugane plentipoterian chortled at that, and blessedly headed away towards a wide circle of Garlean guests that were mingling. As Fordola watched him leave, she saw Emelin push through the same group with a glass of sparkling wine and a small tray of fancy looking nibbles.

  
  
He put the tray down and leaned over to Fordola’s ear, whispering over the music and background hum of conversation. “General Mattenix is on the far side of the hall, he’s drinking heavily and you’re the main talking point among his circle of friends! Are you sure about this?”

  
  
“Of course.” She stood, no chance of her backing down now. “I’ll make my way round there. Bring me another drink when I reach that side of the ball - slip the vial to me then as we discussed.”

  
  
Emelin nodded, standing up straight and switching to a normal tone. “Lord Zenos is due any moment. You should hold that drink for a toast on his arrival.”

  
  
He withdrew, and Fordola nibbled absently at the strange array of small bites Emelin had brought her. Realising she wasn't hungry she stood, carefully, so her dress did not slip any lower than it already was and began slowly walking around the edge of the room, back past the main entranceway.

  
  
She had almost made it to the open doors when the music stopped and a smartly dressed military retainer entered, almost directly in front of Fordola. 

“Announcing His Royal Highness. Prince of Garlemald, Legatus of the XIIth Imperial Legion, subjugator of Doma, Nalbina, Falu-Varius and Balfonheim. Viceroy of Ala Mhigo. Prince Zenos!”

  
  
A smattering of applause graced the ball as the crowd swept to either side as the band piped up the teritorial anthem as Lord Zenos swept into the ball, only a dozen paces from Fordola herself.

  
  
He wore long military robes that were trimmed with fine white fur around his collar, bold gold sleeve loops ran down to black gloves. A bare katana rested at his side and glistened in the golden light of the ball. A perpetual lazy smirk was fixed on his face as he strode forwards, towards the dance floor, his hair slicked back, swishing from left to right like a coiled snake.

  
As he passed Fordola, his head swayed so his eyes lazily ran over her. Fordola reactively shivered in the apathy, the powerful boredom trapped there. Like looking at a caged animal, a beast in human form.

  
  
The music died down as Lord Zenos crossed the dance floor and mounted the stage. Standing before the throne he turned and addressed the large crowd firmly, but in an otherwise passionless voice.

  
  
“Honoured guests, assembled nobles, generals, men and women of Garlamald. It is my duty as son of the esteemed Emperor, Varis zos Galvus - to welcome you.” His voice still did not sound interested, but Fordola noticed how every guest clung to his word nevertheless. With all attention on the prince, she began to resume moving slowly around the back of the ballroom.

  
  
“In the last few days we have won a great victory over the Eorzean savages.” Zenos continued, a hand slowly moving to the hilt of his sword. “They broke on Castrum Occulus like water on rock, and were slaughtered to a man.” He paused briefly for some polite applause. “Now my honoured father bids me carry out an inspection of our eastern holdings in Doma, I only pray there is a worthy foe out there to find and kill.” Polite laughter ringed around the ballroom.

  
  
Zenos leaned forwards, his grin was powerfully ironic and his tone deepend and became sonorous. “Today we celebrate the LVth anniversary of the foundation of the Garlean Empire under Solus zos Glavus. As he said then we maintain today, ‘no lands must remain beyond our grasp. Go forth. Conquer. Rule.” Another round of applause followed and Fordola came to a stop at the back of the crowd near the far wall, she could just about make out Mattenix watching intently near the front. 

“Soldiers you have done much in service to the Empire.” Zenos continued. “But much still remains for you to do. Shall it be said of us that we knew how to conquer, but not to profit by victory? Shall history reproach us for not razing places such as Ala Mhigo to the ground!? I think not.” He fell silent for a moment, before building in tone and speed. “To our soldiers, will be given the immortal honour of hunting the savages before us! The Garlean people, shall give this world a most glorious unity, which shall sanctify us for all the carnage we have wrought. Now be merry; dance, scheme and plot - so that one day when your fellow citizen points at you, they shall say ‘there walks a true citizen of the Garlean Empire!’”

More applause followed and Lord Zenos lowered himself into his chair, as the music resumed and guests began moving back to the dance floor in elegant couples.

  
  
“Erm...Fordola rem Lupis?”

  
  
Fordola was brought out of her thoughts to see a young Garlean man, in his early twenties approaching her. Smartly dressed in dress military uniform, he nevertheless had a weak chin and early receding hair. He also looked very nervous.

  
  
“And you are?” She managed politely enough, although she knew it sounded curt.

  
  
The man nervously saluted, his eyes foolishly moving up and down her body. “Namard Pyr Rienavius of the Imperial garrison under General Mattenix.” He paused, and then his words came out somewhat rused. “I wanted to say how some of the garrison does respect the work of the Crani Lupi. Your raid on Rhalgr’s Reach was bold and delivered a devastating blow to their ranks.”

  
  
Fordola nodded, but her attention was over the man's shoulder. Mattenix had moved back towards a table and was engaged in loud, boorish, conversation with a dozen noblemen and women, wine was flowing freely.

  
  
“I was wondering if you would care to dance?” The words jolted her back to reality.

  
  
“What?” Fordola managed, jerked slightly as she snapped her attention back to the young man. “No, no.” She said quickly, then calmer, “I’m not here to dance Pyr Rienavius.”

  
  
“Forgive me, another time.” The man saluted and had gone a deep crimson. He bowed and backed away, quickly melting into the crowd. Fordola could see several noble ladies pointedly looking and laughing.

  
  
She resumed her slow walk towards Mattenix, putting down her drink on a nearby table and absently remembering that Lord Zenos had not actually raised a toast. Strange. Mattenix himself was one of the most opulently dressed Imperials here tonight in a glistening white military outfit, his hand clasped around a large glass of red wine. A portly woman in a long red dress stood by his side and they appeared to be deep in conversation with a group of around a dozen Garlean military men.

“Savages...rebellion in Doma...Eorzean hero…” She could just about catch words of their conversation. She looked around for Emelin and saw he was along the near wall, conversing naturally with a number of other retainers, including a female retainer who appeared to be mooning at him quite obviously. 

She moved closer, heart thudding – how was she going to do this? It was surely an impossibility for her, so visible as she was, to slip poison unnoticed into his glass.

Mattenix had just put the wine glass down behind him on the nearest table he was leaning against and faced forwards into his social circle. In turn, behind this circle, the ballroom dance floor was thick with couples gracefully dancing to the music.

She looked back over to Emelin who had extracted himself from the group he had been conversing with and was now moving parallel to her, along the wall. He motioned with his head and winked. Did that mean she should distract the general while he did the deed? Fordola wasn’t sure and chastised herself for not arranging hand signals beforehand. 

Suddenly Mattenix looked left and made direct eye contact with Fordola. His lip curled in a sneer and his eyes ran up and down her body and the contemptuous sneer turned into a contemptuous leer.

Fordola made a decision not to back down. There was always the knife. 

She strode forward, dress swishing and pushed herself boldly into the circle of Garleans who looked in her at shock as she offered Mattenix a little bow showing a bit of skin before standing up and fixing (what she hoped) was a warm, sincere smile.

“General Mattenix, a pleasure to see you.” She began, projecting a confidence she hoped did not sound cynical. All eyes in the group were now on her.

In the background, Emelin moved closer towards the table, hands at his side, hidden from sight. 

“Gentlemen this is Fordola rem Lupis.” Mattenix swept the group with his eyes, a smile on his lips, clearly he was quite drunk. “Our very own…pet Ala Mhigan, she has been hunting her own kind with the rest of the black wolfs pups.”

A titter of amusement rippled around the group as Fordola forced a smile over grinding teeth. The idea of ripping her dagger free from under her dress and driving it into this man’s throat grew more attractive by the moment but she forced her boiling blood down.

“I presume that you will resume your viceroy duties while Lord Zenos is in the far-east.” She tilted her head showing some neck, oh yes – she had his full attention. “I look forward to working with you to continue our…good work.”

Perhaps if he was sober, he would have been more suspicious. Perhaps if he was clear-headed, he would have realised that this was a very different woman to the one that hardly bothered to hide her contempt for him elsewhere...

Unfortunately he was neither of these things…and Emelin was now at the table. He had somehow procured a glass of wine in the short moment Fordola had looked away and now he seemed like just another part of the background, like any other dutiful retainer. None of the group were paying him a second glance.

“Yes, indeed.” Mattenix patted some of the medals emblazoned proudly on his chest. “I have great plans for the city and terrible ones for our enemies. Soon we will sally forth against the Eorzeans and win a great victory in a pitched battle, mark my words – we will bury them before our firepower.”

A ripple of polite applause and affirmations ran around the group. Fordola twitched her eyes at Emelin who was gesturing with her hand, what did he want? Suddenly she knew.

She leaned left and deliberately tripped against one of the men within the group. She fell awkwardly and the Garlean had no choice but to catch her as the other group members either flinched back or looked confused. Mattenix, for his part, looked the latter.

“Get off me peasant!!” The man exclaimed, and roughly pushed Fordola back up – cold hands dug into her arms and she made a play of steadying herself before offering the man a small bow.

“I’m so sorry, this heat – I’m not used to this environment.” She offered, hardly believing the words coming out of her mouth. She glanced back at the table, Emelin had just stepped back and put her glass down, he offered her a tiny nod – moving further away.

“Savage’s…” The man was muttering, briskly seeming to dust himself off and Fordola felt such a powerful surge of hatred, mixed with the unnatural way she was having to debase herself that she had to almost physically choke it down.

She moved around the circle to the table with everyone's eyes on her and picked up her glass which Emelin had left for her. Perhaps she should have just left and trusted the fool to drink his waiting glass of wine – but she had to see this herself.

“Perhaps a toast is in order.” She smiled flatteringly at her enemy. _You’ve tried to kill me, now it's my turn_. She raised her glass. “To the Garlean Empire, Prince Zenos and our acting viceroy?”

Only one or two of the group seemed interested in raising their glasses on her prompt. Luckily Mattenix, in his cups, was one of them. He swung around and grasped his goblet and raised it high. “Aye!” He professed. “Death to the savages!”

_Yes, yes this is it! Drink it you bastard! Drink it!_

Fordola raised her glass to her lips, but didn’t drink, too focused on watching Mattenix as the liquid so slowly approached his lips…this was it!

“Ah…if it isn't my favourite Pilus….” That bored, low voice, the sudden shadow that had fallen over her – how all the guests, including Mattenix, had frozen in place, _still with the glass not quite to his lips!_

She turned. Prince Zenos stood just a pace away, towering over her. A smirk on his lips, eyes droll with amusement (and was it her imagination or did his glance quickly twitch to Mattenix???)

“I half expected to see you fully armored and girded for battle at this ball.” The prince continued, addressing Fordola directly, Gods! Half the ballroom was staring openly now, the wider dance now being abandoned. “A ballroom is a battlefield of its own,” Zenos continued, patting his sword reassuringly. “Yet perhaps you have correctly dressed for the occasion, perhaps…”

_He couldn’t have seen, could he?_

“My…lord.” Fordola stammered, and then she raised her glass up in a single motion. “To your health!”

She drained it, and felt a surge of warmth and success surge through her as Mattenix and a half dozen other Garleans quickly followed suit, _she had him!_

“Indeed…” Lord Zenos droned, now he absolutely looked amused. “What a...delectable moment.”

  
  
Fordola remained rooted in place, Gods what was she to do? Mosfungus was slower to act then some poisons - but it was time to leave! However, Zenos just stood there, that sardonic smile on his lips, then…

  
  
“Dance with me wolf.” He offered a black gloved hand to the shocked Fordola.

  
  
One of the nearby Garleans actually dropped his glass, Mattenix started loudly coughing, nothing to do with the poison surely. A shockwave of murmurs ran out from them as the prince loomed down over Fordola.

  
  
“My lord...I…” Fordola stammered. “Er...that's not wise...I mean, I have not danced since my childhood days, I would embarrass m’lord.”

  
  
“Pilus.” The prince’s lip twitched in wry amusement. “Your courage, bloodlust and candour are praiseworthy, but if you think I am pleased with them always, this time you are mistaken.” His massive hand enveloped her own and pulled, not gently, towards the dancefloor. Past startled couples whispering to each other behind gloved hands.

A new song started, a lively rhythm, a fast piece. Fordola was faintly aware that the dance floor was now broadly empty, Garleanslining along the ballroom's edge leaving the prince and the wolf alone. She in ivory and gold, him in black and white. 

  
  
Fordola breathed deeply. She had once benefited from tutors showing her dance steps - although it had been a different time. She had been a different person.

  
  
She looked up at Prince Zenos, towering over her. What was that she saw in his eyes? Was he toying with her, toying with everyone here tonight? What were those eyes hungering for?

  
  
One hand fell to her waist and she knew the dress was too thin...but no going back now. Reflectively she knew she was scowling in her concentration as the music built up and Zenos stepped back and forth, left then right and Fordola followed his steps - mercifully these steps being clearly telegraphed to her by the prince.

  
  
The room was hushed, the entire Garlean nobility and the assembled retainers watching this high theater. As Fordola gracefully spun, ivory dress shimmering, she picked out Emelins face, mouth open in a wide O between the crowd. Back she spun and she saw Mattenix moving away from the dance floor, coughing and being steadied by two retainers.

  
  
Surging in her moment of triumph she abandoned herself to the graceful steps. The music swirled, the prince moved stridently - not gracefully necessarily, but with strength and purpose. Fordola followed, a smile starting to creep back to her lips as she grew in confidence. The lights overhead glittered, Lord Zenos was so close, his eyes still narrowed - his face still smirking - was he enjoying this or was it something else?

  
  
“My lord.” She dared to speak, confident they were out of earshot of the crowd and that she could divide a little focus from dancing. “Have you heard news of the Eorzean champion at all?” The image of that woman, the summoner was burned in her head.

  
  
Zenos chuckled slightly as they revolved in an arc across the ball. “A warrior such as her in an age of peace is nothing more than a chained dog...she will move to where the fires burn. Perhaps even to Doma where the embers are being inflamed at this time.”

  
  
“And if you do come across her, out in the far-east?” Fordola whispered, why was she thinking about this woman here and now?

  
  
“I hope I do…” Zenos murmured; his face so close to hers, his eyes so far away. “Hunting enemy commanders is the only satisfaction in life. To face a true enemy at the peak of their power is my dream. Putting down rabble and the common savage is the task of a lower dog.”

  
  
“My lord…” Fordola wondered at that. Was it not her job to put down the common rabble? Yet the music seemed to be winding down and she wasn't sure how to query that further so instead she gracefully spiralled away and back under his arm, drinking in his scent - breathing in his power. Enjoying the mixture of shock and outrage in the crowds faces that flashed before her. “One day you will be emperor, then who would dare stand against you?” She whispered on spinning back in.

  
  
Zenos chuckled, his lip twitching again. “I have no wish to be emperor, It just so happens that I was born to be emperor...I’d sooner see it all burn.”

  
  
The music died away and he held her briefly as the murmurings replaced the music and Fordola remained frozen in spot, staring into his eyes.

  
  
“When I return...we will...talk more.” The prince murmured, his face that of wry, sardonic amusement. “Until then...prove to me you are the wolf I think you are.”

  
  
A loud cough broke the murmuring. Fordola twisted to see Mattenix rapidly retreating out of the ballroom, stumbling and tripping.

  
  
“The wolf draws blood.” Zenos murmured and pulled away.

  
  
He clapped his hands, and the next piece started, other couples slowly began moving back onto the floor. Lord Zenos turned and started heading back to the raised stage and his throne - leaving Fordola rooted in the middle of the dance floor, alone.

  
  
She felt a sudden, urgent need for fresh air.

  
  
Without thinking, she moved off the dance floor, shoving aside one couple that mistakenly came too close. Mattenix had just departed by the main entrance, she had to leave - where was the eastern exit?

  
  
She barrelled towards a small doorway along the eastern wall, past blurred dancers and staring retainers. She hoped Emelin was following. She passed the servants at the door and ignored the shout after her as she strode down a suddenly quiet marbled corridor, spacious and almost deserted.

  
  
She moved down the corridor, away from the ballroom. Her footsteps now echoing louder than the distant music, her dress swishing along. Ahead she spotted an entranceway leading out into the night. She turned and emerged onto a balcony overlooking a different section of the Royal Menagerie. Flowers illuminated in the night by the glow from the ballroom further along, above, a thousand stars gleaming in the sky, the cool nights breeze so very welcome on her clammy skin.

  
  
“This balcony is taken.” A male voice drawled. She jumped, again reflectively reaching to her waist for the sword that was not there.

A figure was leaning against the balcony, out of sight from the main corridor. He was tall and lanky, dressed in strangely similar robes to Lord Zenos, black with white fur trim and golden accessories. However he had white gloves instead of the prince's black, and a row of golden military ranks (which Fordola could not make out the detail of) blazened on his left breast. A prominent Garlean third eye stared out above yellowish eyes, his hair was darkest burgundy, except with a curious white streak across his right forehead.

“Ah, forgive me m’lord.” Fordola said stiffly, she did not recognise this strange man so best to be cautious, however the man was already waving a hand dismissively above his head.

  
  
“No, no, it's fine - I wasn't up to much anyway, just enjoying the peace and quiet until it was shattered, on such an important day as well.” He drawled, addressing the balcony, not Fordola.

  
  
“Well then I should take my leave.” This was not the way out anyway, so short of waiting here to catch her breath there was no reason to stay. She turned to exit but as she did so the man turned and favoured her with a lazy smile.

  
  
“No, it's fine - besides after dancing such as that you probably need to recover and think on the crimes you committed - to dance.” He laughed at this, rolling his eyes in an excessively droll manner - Fordola wondered if he was drunk, what a strange man.

  
  
“And you are…?” She asked, folding her arms beneath her breasts.

  
  
“Oh, you don’t recognise me?” He asked with a raised eyebrow, then gesturing wildly to his medals. “Can’t have been a student of Garlean history then? Oh well, probably for the best.” He turned back to the stars. “I’m just here to pass the time - every year this frivolous anniversary comes up I visit a different location and see how things are done out in the provinces. Seems I chose an amusing location, this Garlean prince is quite the character, if he doesn't get himself killed by one Warrior Of Light in the near future I’m _quite certain_ I will be spending quality time with him soon…” He had gone back to addressing the balcony again, Fordola heard him mumbling. “Maybe he’s better suited to Elidibus actually...more patience…”

  
  
“Are you from Garlemald, what do you know of the Warrior Of Light?” Fordola tried, her curiosity piqued. “Is that the Eorzean hero - a summoner?”

  
  
“Oh so you’ve met her have you?” The man looked her up and down with a glint of interest in her eye. “Why yes she is a hero, but she is also a fool - as for being a summoner, why I believe she wears many guises - that being one of them.”

  
  
“You speak in riddles.” Fordola looked him in the eye, such a strange man - but clearly well informed.

  
  
The man laughed broadly, but the sound was still bitter. “And you speak like a fraction of a person, but we aren't a fair comparison there. As to your earlier question - I am not really of Garlemald, but I have called it my home for a fair few years…”

  
  
Fordola lapsed into silence, curiosity piqued or not, this was no place to linger and she was on the cusp of again leaving when the man waved up at the stars above. “Tell me Ala Mhigan, do you think the stars deserve to live forever?”

  
  
Fordola was finding it hard to keep up with this conversation. “No.” She put, bluntly. It was an easier thing to say, even if she didn't put any thought into her answer.

  
  
“Of course not.” The stranger put, his tone growing weasley. “Why would you know? Why would any mortal know? Tis not their place to know or appreciate if the stars, people or the earth itself deserve to live forever.”

  
  
Fordola stood there for a moment longer, then she heard movement behind her and turned.

It wasn't Emelin she saw, but a nobleman garbed in black imperial trim, standing in the corridor. She recognised him faintly from Mattenix’s circle, his face was red from wine and a Garlean retainer stood next to him - wearing a grey, bland outfit. Both seemed surprised to see her and she presumed they could not see the other Garlean already on the balcony, off to one side.

  
  
“You…” The nobleman spluttered. “Fate smiles on me running into you…”

  
  
“Does it now?” Fordola favoured him with a scowl. He blocked her exit and her patience at being trapped in this dress, without her sword, was wearing thin.

  
  
That said, she did not expect the man to pull a concealed, wicked knife out and start laughing.

  
  
“Fate has smiled on me!” He shouted. “Prince Zenos will understand, all is for my lord!”

  
  
He rushed at her, stabbing forwards in a frenzy.

  
  
Fordola ran on instinct, her adrenaline had hardly relaxed this evening and it was clear this man was no trained killer. She sidestepped, smoothly as the man lunged past and brought her hand crashing down on his neck.

  
  
He crumpled to the floor of the balcony and the knife skidded to the floor. He turned and looked back at her, eyes wide. “You’ll pay for that savage, dog, bitch!!”

  
  
Fordola knelt down next to him and looked him in the eye as she picked up his knife. “You should have stopped at savage,” and drove the blade into his neck and held it there as he gurgled, and then fell still.

  
  
“What an boorish assasination attempt.” That drawl, she had almost forgotten the strange man. She rounded on the dark haired Garlean, still standing there, looking deeply amused, then offended as she drew the knife on him. “Oh please. I’m hardly sticking around here - anyway, it's the other one you should be concerned about.” He pointed back at the entranceway, and the Garlean retainer.

  
  
The younger man had been rooted to the spot but seeing Fordola turn back to him, blood on the dagger of his master he found his courage. “Help!” He shouted. “Murder!” He turned to flee, and almost ran straight into Emelin who suddenly appeared, punched the man roundly in the face. The retainer dropped to the ground.

  
  
Emelin immediately grabbed an arm and dragged the body out onto the balcony with Fordola, his eyes growing wide at the sight of the other dead noble, blood pooling out of his neck. 

“We need to leave now, commander.” He rushed. “You’ve got the Twelves own luck this corridor is deserted but that voice could have traveled.”

  
  
“Agreed.” Fordola nodded, breathing heavily now that the moment had passed. She looked over the balcony. Despite not having walked up any stairs, there were several levels above rows of shrubbery and topiary. “Help me get the bodies over the edge Em.”

  
  
“And try to avoid getting blood on that dress.” The odd Garlean drawled, he was back to looking out at the stars.

  
  
Emelin jumped, registering the man's presence for the first time, even as he helped Fordola lift the dead nobleman over the edge of the balcony. A moment later they heard the thud of it hitting the ground level. Fordola shook her head at Emelins wild gesture, pointing to the unconscious retainer.

  
  
Emelin dragged the retainer to the edge of the balcony and Fordola knelt next to the body with the knife. “Sorry.” She whispered the meaningless word, and twisted the blade in. A moment later the body followed its masters.

  
  
She straightened and looked at the stranger again who was now smirking at Fordola and Emelin who stood beside her. Again he waved an elaborate hand over his head. “You should run along, I’ll be leaving now anyway, no peace and quiet tonight it seems.”

  
  
“Commander…” Emelin whispered next to her but Fordola put a hand firmly in front of her young captain.

  
  
It was funny. All her experience told her that this man was a loose end, worse, he was a Garlean loose end...but some...instinct in her said that this man was trustworthy, at least in this matter.

  
  
“We will leave now.” She inclined her head at the other man and gestured for Emelin to check the corridor. “Enjoy your evening.” She added, _for some unfathomable reason_.

  
  
“Oh I won’t,” mocked the strange Garlean who shooed her away with one gloved hand. “I doubt we will meet again...your loyalty to Garlemald is such a beautiful thing...but loyalty is such an abused word whenever it becomes convenient.

Another baffling statement. She turned and saw Emelin motioning her forwards on the corridor. WIth one last look at her strange acquaintance, she followed Emelin back down the corridor, away from the ball.

  
\---

“So three murders in one night?” Admiral Merlwyb leaned back, rocking on her chair, scrutinising Fordola. “The first to remove a rival, the second to protect yourself but the third seemed unnecessary.”

  
  
Fordola shrugged, a part buried deep inside her acknowledged the admiral's words were true, but she had come to terms with it. “I did what I did, not just for myself, but for the rest of my people.”

  
  
“Bold words from the one who betrayed her people, and would kill her own captains!” Lyse accused, jabbing a finger at Fordola.

  
  
She couldn't accept that, Fordola brought her manaclued fists down on the lectern, but she choked when she realised she had no strong words to denounce the red woman, instead she almost whispered. “I had obligations as a Pilus...and I followed them.”

  
  
A silence followed until Alphinaud coughed politely and again riffled through his various pieces of paper in front of him. “This...odd Garlean you met on the balcony...I find this perplexing, firstly that he did not turn you in - having witnessed you commit two murders and secondly, that you did not in turn remove him as a witness.”

  
  
Fordola relaxed back somewhat, thinking back. Had she been thinking straight? The whole thing seemed a blur, but there had just been a _presence_ about the man, a feeling that she couldn't have touched him - even if she had wanted to. “It is what it is,” she offered instead.

  
  
Alphinaud offered a little frown. “Well...your secrecy was maintained anyway, as far as you were aware anyway...did you ever see this, strange Garlean again?”

  
  
“No.” Fordola shook her head. “Although I found myself wandering the palace on occasion, looking for him, expecting to find him lounging on another balcony, staring at the sky.”

  
  
“Clearly an oddball,” Raubahn shook his head. “A man clearly of no morals, or consequence to any of us here, let's move on.”

  
  
“Yes, lets.” Alphinaud nodded at the general, then looked up at Fordola. “We will take another recess and we will then resume with your actions while Lord Zenos was in Doma, and your seizure of the Scion, Krile - which we believe was on the direct orders of Zenos himself?” He allowed the moment to trail off, and then motioned to a guard standing close to the Warrior of Light. “Guard, see that she is fed and watered, we will call her back shortly.”

  
  
The guard stepped forward, and Fordola looked over at the Warrior of Light, whose eyes were half closed in concentration - could she be gazing into Fordola’s past again? In that case she would already know what was shortly to come next.

  
  
\---

  
  
Three days after the departure of Lord Zenos for Doma, General Mattenix still clung to life within the infirmary of Ala Mhigo. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one went through a number of tweaks and revisions but a 'ballroom' scene had been always on the cards - if for nothing more then a ton of fan service and foreshadowing. 
> 
> Thank you for reading as always and for any comments and kudos.


	11. The Second Recess

#  **The Second Recess**  
  


Once more she was led past the murmuring, accusing whispers of the crowd and through the side door and into the silent corridor beyond. After a brief visit to an adjoining privy, she was unceremoniously locked back in the same, small waiting room with its single stool, and barred window.

  
  
The single shaft of sunlight had moved across from the room, and now rested at the base of one of the walls. Ignoring the tiny stool, Fordola sat down in the sunray, and looked at the door in anticipation.

Would she come again? Or would she want to stay away?

A few moments later she was rewarded with a knock; but rather than the Warrior of Light, it was the guard returning with a tray holding a small cup of water, and a plate of dry biscuits. The man carefully put them down just inside the doorway, his eyes not leaving Fordola as he then produced a key from the thong on his belt.

  
  
“Lord Alphinaud has requested your manacles be removed while you are in here, don’t try anything now…three more guards are just outside.”

  
  
Fordola was amused at the idea and for a moment, did seriously toy with it before discarding it. She held out her hands and the guard clicked them open and took away the chains fastening her hands together. He then rapidly backtracked and slammed the door shut behind him. A moment later the key was turned.

  
  
Fordola revelled in the moment, and massaged her hands one after the other, stretching them up, almost to the ceiling - so light, she felt like air.

Reality came back - she was thirsty, and eagerly grabbed the cup, enjoying the cool sensation on her dry fingers before eagerly quaffing from it. A brief thought floated through her head that it too could be poisoned, like the good general's wine, all those moons ago…

Finishing the water, she took a few of the dry biscuits in hand and moved back to the sunbeam and chewed them thoughtfully. Enjoying a moment of peace she relaxed as best as possible, the feeling of adrenaline bleeding off her, the fatigue suddenly reaching up and grasping her in its grip.

She drifted into a light slumber and, for a while, she dreamed. Ansfrid, Mari, Emelin and Hrudolf each appeared before her, one after the other. Each looked at her in a different way, Mari had a smile, Ansfrid a sad, lost look, Emelin seemed shy, while Hrudolf had a flat, stoic expression. Each in turn looked away from her and walked away into blackness. Leaving her alone.

She had failed them...she had betrayed them...she had…

A sudden knock on the door roused her from the uneasy slumber. How much time had passed? The shaft of sunlight which had been so pleasantly on her body had moved further along the wall, only now catching a part of her arm. 

The key turned, and again the Warrior of Light entered the room.

  
  
Again, the golden, white hue of aether accompanied her and Fordola felt her eyes flutter. The effect was particularly...dazzling. In the courtroom the Eikon Slayer sat far away and off to one side, but here in the close confines of the holding room, it was almost overwhelming.

Fordola stumbled to her feet as the Warrior carefully shut the door and walked lightly to the far wall facing Fordola, and gracefully leaned against it. In the small room only a pace or two separated them and Fordola again noting the contrast between her own brown, earthtone, prison garb, and the Warriors brilliant white vestments. The elaborate crystal blue earring in the shape of an aetheryte crystal twinkled at the warriors ear and a thousand other, little details which Fordola had not noticed earlier.

_Flicker, a roegadyn in shining Garlean armour bellowed proudly, ‘I will suffer none to oppose Lord Van Baelsar!’...a blur...the roegadyn fell, his armour shattered into a thousand pieces._

Neither woman spoke, the Warrior strangely was looking down at the floor and Fordola passed a moment studying the other woman's hair before finally deciding to break the silence.

“Been enjoying the show then?” She cursed how bitter it sounded, not her intention.

“Hmm?” The Warrior looked up, her eyes unfocused for a moment before she shook her head. Already Fordola felt her eyes were adjusting to the aether haze, the golden light now seemed dimmer and was easier to ignore. “Oh it's grand,” the Warrior paused again for a moment, as if thinking what to say. “Alphinaud has been trawling through our intelligence dossiers, can’t find any reference to your Mattenix sas Vandiatius. The admiral thinks your whole story is a pack of lies. Been quite the animated discussion.”

  
  
Fordola snorted at that, she wasn't too surprised. “Is that the prevailing view of the council? That I’m a liar as well as a murderer?”

  
  
The warrior offered a strangely wan smile, for all her talk of hardly sleeping - she looked tired. “Oh, you may be surprised to know that Lyse fully backed your story, saying it was ‘too bizarre’ to be anything other than truth. I believe she has a low opinion of your creative capacity to lie like that…”

  
  
Fordola actually laughed slightly at that, offering a sickly grin. “So did they ask you to come here then? Peer into my soul, see the truth of my words?”

“The Echo does not work like that, on request.” The warrior admonished, but lightly for a slight smile played on her lips too. “For what it's worth, I saw a flicker of your dress in your memories before this trial...so I believe you.”

  
  
Fordola inclined her head and there was another pause before the Warrior leaned forwards slightly, arms crossing.

  
  
“Your strange Garlean friend on the balcony, you sounded quite taken by him? With the streak of white hair and his odd way of talking - I didn't think he was your type?”

  
  
Fordola thought back to the days patrolling the palace or the city, when she had thought back to the man's mannerisms, his curious accent and shrugged for the Warriors benefit. “He was an oddball but...captivating in his dry sincerity...he had an odd charisma about him, as if he knew all the secrets of the court. I dare say you would like him too, you’re probably far more his type.” This seemed fair based on what she had seen of the Warriors' own past and the other woman laughed lightly - a chiming peel that somehow brightened the room.

“Oh I don’t know about that. I doubt I’ll ever meet a Garlean like that on good terms.”

  
  
Fordola shrugged again. “Who can say…maybe your paths will cross in the most unexpected of ways?”

  
  
“Maybe.” The warrior allowed, uncrossing her arms and then staring intently into Fordola’s face, clearly looking to move on to her real subject. “I did come to tell you something,” her tone was now suddenly serious. “Gaius van Baelsar, the black wolf, ex-viceroy of Ala Mhigo, is alive.”

  
  
Fordola felt her eyes blink rapidly, the information was slow to sink in and hard to process. She had never met the man, only her father's hushed reverence for him so long ago. 

_Flicker, endless deserts of pure white sand, a man with black slicked hair and a shining gunblade._

Fordola thought hard on it, then laughed loudly, enjoying the puzzled look of surprise that spread across the Warriors face. “Ahhhh, is that why you’ve been looking so guilty?” She stretched onto the toes of her feet, reaching her arms for the ceiling. “It means nothing to me, why should it?”

  
  
“We...I...think Zenos could still be alive as well.”

  
  
The laughter turned to chokes and Fordola spluttered and clutched a hand to her chest reflectively. After a moment she felt her eyes narrow as she glowered at the Warrior, she could hardly see the aether now. “Are you toying with me? Are all of those you slaughtered secretly still alive or are you just testing me to see if I have any loyalty to the tinheads still?”

  
  
 _The fireplace...the wine...the prince's lazy eyes running over her...a predator's smile_.

  
  
“Well!?” She jammed a fist into the floor and shifted restlessly, Gods, part of her wanted to fight, her hands were free after all. “Do you think I’m _pleased_ to hear that!?” Her voice was rising now, in tone and volumn. “I mean, I’m _pleased_ to hear you can be as incompetent as me when it comes to failed killings! But if you think I still dream of Lord Zenos coming back from the grave to burn this city with you in it, then you are very much mistaken!”

  
  
She was shouting now, she really shouldn't be shouting. The Warrior for her part remained silent, looking her evenly in the eyes,unafraid - _damn her!_ “I’m sorry…” She murmured, looking contrite. “I don’t know why I told you that...it just felt right.”

  
  
“Oh I see.” Fordola snorted, rolling her eyes and leaning back again although her blood still boiled, moreso at the feeble apology. “So what was it? Feelings of guilt? You wanted to share your little secrets with me? See if I’d dance!?”

  
  
“Nothing of the sorts!” A flash of anger suddenly flickered across the Warriors face, ‘ _good’_ thought Fordola, ‘ _dance for me’_. “I just...sometimes I feel we share a connection. Remember the lady of bliss, the two of us in the palace together? Maybe it is the Echo, maybe something else...I love my fellow scions, my friends and comrades but there is a gulf that separates us, a gulf you bridge...why do I feel this tie with you?”

  
  
Fordola leaned forwards, tensing on her feet, steadying her stance. “Let me show you something...”

  
  
She pushed forwards in a sudden move, bringing her right fist straight at the Warrior of Lights head. The room was small and Fordola was weaker then she had been, but the punch still had speed and power..

The Warrior saw it coming, of course she did and shifted her body to one side, she was not just a summoner, but also a monk of the highest combat arts. Fordola managed to stop her fist just before it struck the wall and brought her left arm forwards, launching a barrage of quick jabs at the Warrior of Light even as the Warrior backpedalled, almost tripping over the stool to avoid the strikes.

Fordola allowed a small space to open between them as she panted in the slight exertion as the Warrior held her palms wide, showing she was unarmed. “I don’t want to hurt you Fordola, stop this madness.”

  
  
“I do want to hurt you.” Fordola grinned, enjoying the pounding blood in her veins, the surge of energy and adrenaline, she felt free! She launched a kick - which the Warrior sidestepped and Fordola brought an elbow crashing right - which the Warrior ducked. Weaving back around to the back wall with the window.

  
  
“What's gotten into you?” The Warrior urged, her voice was not quite angry yet, but it was getting there - her eyes not quite narrowed. The open palms had been replaced by a steady combat stance protecting her face.

  
  
“Don’t you see something we share other than your precious Echo?” Fordola taunted her, this was the most fun she’d had in ages! Again she launched a series of jabs; left, right, left, left. This time the Warrior of Light held her ground and slapped each blow aside in rapid succession, the thrumming of her palm against Fordola’s fists reverberating through the air. .

  
  
Fordola cursed at how she was breathing hard, long weeks in the cell had not been kind to her fitness. By contrast the Warrior was at the height of her power and health. Both knew this was no serious contest and only the Warriors curiosity and confidence probably kept her from prematurely ending this show.

“Well, what is it?” The Warrior of Light demanded, eyes now narrowed properly, breathing steadily - in control.

  
  
Fordola grinned again, preparing herself for another strike. “We share a history of violence, we both revel in it - in battle! In facing worthy, powerful foes and overcoming them. In striking them down, growing stronger and moving on to the next enemy.” She suddenly relaxed and stood facing the Warrior of Light who remained in her ready pose. “Don’t you see Warrior of Light? _Or should I call you Sara_? We’re both weapons, both tools of those that would use us! I was a tool for the Garleans, for Prince Zenos and you are a tool for your precious Scions, for your Eorzean alliance. Is it you doing the talking at the negotiating table? Do you ever do any talking with those that profess to be your allies? Do you just smile and nod at them guileless as they aim you like a weapon at the next foe to be cut down…”

  
  
Fordola felt the sixth sense, her artificial echo, seize her. The blurring red haze blossoming on her chest, the feeling of it crunching into her body.

A split second the Warrior came forward, a right handed open-palm strike. Fordola could have avoided it, she could have blocked it, but she allowed the blow to strike her on the chest. Wincing with the pain she brought both hands up, clasping the other woman’s bare shoulders and pulled her half a step closer, just a whisper between their bodies.

  
  
The Warrior of Light could have easily broken her hold or struck her down, but she did not. She met Fordola’s gaze evenly, without fear or conflict, so close Fordola felt a moment's shame for provoking her so.

  
  
“You’re wrong Fordola,” she said simply.

  
  
“Am I?”

  
  
“Yes, absolutely.”

  
  
“In what way?”

  
  
Sara sighed, her hands falling to her side - even as Fordola kept hers on the Warriors shoulders. “Take your hands off me.”

  
  
“Why?”

  
  
“Because I won’t ask nicely next time.”

  
  
Fordola felt light headed, the lust for battle was bleeding off her, but the adrenaline was still pumping through her. Sara by contrast now looked uncomfortable, and was no longer making eye contact with her. 

Fordola felt a sudden gleeful giddiness of control, “Are you worried I’m going to kiss you back now?”

  
  
That got a reaction. The Warrior span and an arm chopped into Fordola’s right arm, breaking her grip and allowing the other woman to put a pace between them both. Her eyes smoldered as she stared back at Fordola who was now massaging her arm where the blow had struck.

  
  
“That's enough.” The Warrior of Light demanded. “You’ve had your fun, but I don’t delight in dealing out violence _despite what you think_! Garleans oppress people in all corners of this star, primals bring widespread death and destruction unchecked! My fellow scions are not just comrades, they are friends, brothers and sisters in arms - some of whom have fallen to protect me.”

  
  
“There are no heroes with clean hands.” Fordola snorted back, feeling coming back into her arms. “You come in here with revelations about a liege I never met and a prince who was far more interested in you when I last saw him. I don’t know if you feel sorry for me, or for yourself, for your failings?

  
  
Again, the spark of anger and defiance flickered over the Warrior of Light. “Big words coming from a captive in a liberated city - who is telling the story of how she was beaten by me...twice.”

  
  
Fordola grinned at that, that was fair. “I’m looking forward to telling the details of my evening chat with the prince...about the echo, worldlines, but most of all...you. By that point you were his favorite topic.”

  
  
“I killed him once, I’ll kill him again.” The Warrior shrugged, leaning back against the wall watching Fordola keenly. “He’s out there now...without his army, like a wild animal obsessing over me of all things.”

“You should hope he stays without that army.” Fordola felt a dreadful premonition at that, was it the Echo? “If he is without an army, then find him and strike him down before he becomes a thorn in your side.”

  
  
“Well I could be dead in a week's time.” The Warrior drly chuckled. “Your trial is the last one being held befores the leaders of Eorzea join the forces heading for the Ghimlyt Dark, where the Garlean emperor himself is leading a large army. Maybe I just wanted to let you know that the two Garleans who shaped your life are still out there, somewhere.”

A silence fell between them, the mock violence had been forgotten - the only evidence of any fight being the fallen stool that was discarded near the door. Neither woman looked at the other, each lost in their own thoughts. Suddenly Fordola remembered something from before, an Echo vision, a figure with the same face… “Tell me about Fray.” She urged the Warrior. “Are you the voiceless Warrior of Light? Are you Sara the woman? Or are you something...else?”

  
  
Strangely, that didn't make the Warrior angry, rather she looked thoughtful, her eyes took a faraway look. “Fray is...an aspect of myself, I suppose you could say I have many aspects - I started with just one, like most people. But then things changed, I came to Eorzea and was blessed. One became two, then three and more as I mastered the combat disciplines. I fight, I heal, I rage, I doubt, I sing, I dance. Sometimes I fight with grace, other times with honour, wielding fire, welding lance...Fray isn't such a neat part like the others - Fray rebels, Fray chaffs at what I’ve become.”

  
  
Fordola had heard things from Lord Zenos, felt and seen things through her forced gift. None of this surprised; she had seen the shadows, the memories, the cacophony of voices within one mortal body. “So what have you become?” She had to ask.

  
  
Sara, Warrior of Light gave her a tired smile, the smile of a woman who had not slept like a natural person in moons. “I kill my enemies. I fetch things. I do what other people can’t or won’t do for themselves. But nevertheless, I fight against oppression, injustice and to end the shadow that hangs over everything.”

  
  
Fordola shivered, she had seen the visions in the Warriors past. Figures cloaked in black, wreaking chaos for their dead God. 

“You’re going to talk about the Echo eventually.” The Warrior of Light leaned forwards, the fatigue washing away from her face and replaced with a slight smile. “I thought the Echo was a simple barrier against the primals - and on the side it could only show people's memories. Now I’m starting to think it's so much more, I remember you once said, back when we talked in the cell - that you think it can even show the future?”

  
  
Fordola stirred again, bringing back memories of their talk long into the night. She looked at the Warrior, at Sara, and

_flicker, blazing skies of scorching, blighted sunlight_

nodded at her. “Sometimes, I think so...but it hardly ever happens - and even then you think it might be the past. See, the Echo is a connection to _someplace_ where time has no meaning. Where archives of events that have happened, and will happen are kept, and where your aspect might sneak you signs of what lies ahead.

  
  
“And do you see anything in my future?” The Warrior asked casually, polite curiosity and interest rippling off her.

  
  
Fordola frowned at that and shook her head slowly. “Nothing that makes any sense, just glaring, golden skies of light - I’ve seen it twice in your presence.”

  
  
“Hmmm…” The Warrior lapsed into thought at that. “I wonder what it could mean…”

  
  
They lapsed into silence again and Fordola crossed her arms again, suddenly feeling uncomfortable, like she should have remained silent.

  
  
The moment stretched out, the Warrior and the traitor silently lost in their own thoughts...until the bang on the door, the sound of the key turning and the guards head poking through.

  
  
His head swiveled from the Warrior of Light to Fordola on opposing walls and seemed seized by a moment of indecision. The Warrior of Light noticed and straightened from the wall, “I presume you are being called back in, I better go.”

  
  
Turning, she walked up to the guard who bowed respectfully. She looked back at Fordola and offered a tight grin. “Talking with you is always ‘interesting’, too many hold their tongue around me - we’ll speak again.”

“Maybe.” Fordola replied, it was the best she could manage, and then the woman was gone.

  
  
The guard beckoned, the manacles were carefully reapplied and she was led back to the grand hall of justice in chains.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its a casual ship, but it checks out! 
> 
> I appreciate this is a long burn and if you've read this far - I would love to know your thoughts, get some feedback.
> 
> Thank you for reading, on to the Gunblade, the Echo and the Battle! (or something like that)


	12. The Gunblade

#  **The Gunblade**

Three days passed and Mattenix sas Vandiatius still clung to life.

Mosfungus draught was nearly always fatal. It bubbled inside a person's lungs, eroding and decaying. Painful sores would then spread across a person's body before usually death followed within a day. Yet, this stubborn Garlean refused to die.

For three days & nights, Fordola, Ainsfrid and Emelin jumped at shadows. Rumours swept the castle, and then the city of the mysterious deaths at the ball, each rumour more far-fetched than the last. Eorzean assassins had infiltrated the ball and murdered the general of Ala Mhigo. No, I heard a primal had landed in the Royal Menagerie and been captured by the general before being struck down in the process. No, it was the Warrior of Light herself, who had danced with Prince Zenos before murdering the good general with her own bare hands - before then flying away in the night atop a Kugane mikoshi.

For some reason, the last rumour gave Fordola the first good laugh in ages - and the first feeling that victory was hers.

A week then passed and business slowly creeped back to normal. With Lord Zenos now in far-flung Doma and the acting viceroy at death's door, Fordola enjoyed the relaxation of the Garlean noose around her neck.

After Mattenix, the commanding officer was Quitan Rem Delassius. A vain and preening older Hyur whom Fordola found curiously effeminate in his day to day dealings. He had little talent that she could see and no backbone, thus his orders to the Crani Lupi were few and far between.

Fordola steadily felt the tension further ebb away. More of her skulls returned from far-flung patrols and could actually rest and relax for days, rather than hours. Insurgency violence had dropped off and the Eorzean forces had largely pulled back to Baelsar’s Wall. From the upper floors of the palace, Fordola could look out across the sun blasted roofs of the city and hear the bustle and hustle of thousands of citizens going about their business. More trade caravans started to arrive, and the markets overflowed with rich spices, fine silks and other exotic curios.

Fordola increasingly ventured out and around the palace. Visiting her men, both those that had returned home from successful patrols, raids and suppression efforts, and those that had been injured in the line of duty. She listened, talked, extolled and criticised in equal measure, and her men took notice of the new energy surging through their commander. 

With their general indisposed and a weak subordinate now in charge, she even noted Garlean troops on occasion would salute her on the palace corridors. Where previously there had been apathy and disquiet, there was now the start of something she had aimed for all her life…

On the fourth day of the second week, the peace ended. A summons was sent for the senior commanders of Ala Mhigo to gather at the palace infirmary. Mattenix had recovered sufficiently to pass on orders from Lord Zenos himself.

Fordola walked alone to the late morning meeting. Comforted by the curved sword at her side (sharpened in advance to a wicked edge) and far more comfortable in her familiar tanned armour then she had been in that dress all those weeks ago (in the end she kept the dress, now carefully stored under her meagre bed). The thought that this first meeting with Mattenix could be a trap had not escaped her, but she had insisted on going alone over Ansfrid’s strident objections.

The palace infirmary was located in a wing off the west of the palace. Fordola had seldom visited it before. The infirmary itself was reserved for Garlean officers and other important dignitaries. Her skulls were largely treated by trusted Ala Mhigans in back door clinics in the upper city.

After being nodded through by the guards she waited in a spacious foyer, soon joined by the two other senior commanders in the city.

Quitan Rem Delassius had a weak chin and slack greying hair that betrayed his advancing years, however he had the most important feature for Garlean high command; a proud third eye in the middle of his forehead. As ‘Rem’ he shared an honorific with Fordola, but while she was a Pilus Prior, in command of just the Crani Lupi; he was a Primus Pilus and had command of the Garlean home garrison and city guard.

He offered a nod at Fordola and his lip twitched in what could have been an attempt at a smile. Despite his lack of energy and vigour, he did lack much of the visible racism that was usually proudly displayed by a high-born Garlean. Alas that he had probably never used the sleek gunblade at his side in battle before.

Walking in behind Quitan, and far taller and more imposing was Savlor Quo Catradia, one of the few serving Elzeen in the imperial army. With vibrant jet black hair, a smart military uniform and constantly twitching eyes, Savlor had an impressive resume as the leader of the Vulpes carrying out daring raids on Eorzea from Garlean gunships. Fordola knew little about him, other than that he had pledged himself utterly and totally to Garlemald and that the hundred or so Vulpes that served under him had a reputation for deadly fighting.

Fordola knew little about the Elzeen, he had only recently been recalled from the forward garrison at Castellum Velodyna. She had hoped there could be some kinship between her and the Elzeen as fellow Garlean outsiders, but she had been warned by Ansfrid that Savlor and his Vulpes had been watching the Crani Lupi closely the last few days. His twitching eyes and tiny inclination of a nod were neither welcoming nor friendly. Rather, she read the look as ‘no quarter’.

A few moments passed as the three commanders politely ignored each other. Fordola busied herself with pacing back and forth, Quitan fumbled with his belt and Savlor remained straight back, staring at the ceiling. After a few moments of this agony, an imperial orderly appeared out of one of the side corridors and bowed to Quitan as the ranking Garlean, “Commanders, General Mattenix is ready to see you now.”

“And how is the general?” Quitan blustered, dusting his dark imperial outfit down, catching his hand jarringly on the hilt of the gunblade at his side.

The orderly’s lip twitched, and he shuffled uncomfortably in his white robes. “For several days and nights, he hovered between life and death. On the second night his heart stopped altogether but we were able to revive him…he has much improved recently and we are hopeful that a full recovery will follow in due course.” Fordola felt an iron clamp close around her heart and lock into place. She felt her lips thin as Savlor softly asked the obvious question, “Do you know what caused this?”

The orderly frowned at the brooding elzeen, “We have our suspicions…a potent poison of some sorts certainly...but the general can tell you more if you would care to follow me sirs?”

Fordola fell in behind Quitan and Savlor as they were led off down a sparkling white passageway to a door where four imperial guardsmen stood aside to let them enter.

She had to squint as they entered. The room was illuminated by dozens of bright, harsh Imperial glowbulbs. Every wall was white and looked spotless, although several strange contraptions and Garlean machina devices rested off to one side against the walls. A large comfy bed was under a window that allowed a generous beam of sun in to warm Mattenix sas Vandiatius.

The good general’s white hair and moustache had been shaved clean and the age lines in his face now branched around vibrant purple splotches. He was sat up against several plush pillows; a white blanket pulled up to his neck preserved his modesty. Only a fool would see weakness in this scene, his eyes were bright and Fordola was sure they narrowed slightly as she followed the other two commanders through.

“General Mattenix!” Quitan saluted fiercely, a gesture followed by Savlor and Fordola, “So good to see you are making a fine recovery!”

“Thank you commander Quitan.” Mattenix shrugged slightly, his arms and hands resting under the blanket. “The attempt on my life has left me somewhat scarred and deformed...but the doctors have been working night and day and assure me I am past the worst. In time I should make a full recovery.”

“How fortunate.” Quitan replied, smiling benignly at his commander officer. Fordola noticed Savlor’s sharp elzeen eyes couldn’t stay still, snapping from her to General Mattenix again, and then to some papers that were arrayed on a table to one side.

“What news from Doma, General?” Savlor asked directly, now focussing on the papers. Fordola suspected he had little patience for pleasantries, but his tone was otherwise one of proper deferential respect.

“Little good.” Mattenix coughed heavily for a few moments, waving away the orderly who stepped forward with a glass of water. After the coughs had subsided, he resumed speaking slowly. “Lord Zenos has been carrying out his formal inspection of the Doma provinces. An attempt on his life was made in Yanxia but was easily dispatched and he will return to Ala Mhigo very shortly. He has sent several orders in advance of his return which are as follows.”

He cleared his throat again, and this time did drink from the offered water before continuing. “Firstly, Lord Zenos has received intelligence that the Eorzean alliance will soon be preparing for a major counteroffensive. We are to dispatch troops to fortify Castellum Velodyna and hold the black bridge to prevent a breakout east towards Ala Mhigo.”

Despite her chargin at seeing Mattenix on the road to recovery Fordola felt a thrill run through her body. An open, set-piece battle against the Eorzeans would give the Crani Lupi a chance to fight side by side with the Garleans and win glory and fame. Not hiding in the shadows, skulking round the city and collecting tribute from local villages.

“Secondly,” Mattenix continued. “Lord Zenos has requested the capture alive and unharmed of one of the so-called Scions of the Seventh Dawn. They are an elite unit that is coordinating the city states of Eorzea with the Ala Mhigan rebellion. Imperial Intelligence suggests that several of their members remain east of the wall aiding the resistance and they are to be held pending the princes return.” Mattenix looked up at Savlor, the Elzeen snapped to attention. “Savlor, you will take your Vulpes and two gunships from the city. Carry out raids along the border and bring back one of these Scions, descriptions of which will be provided. You will be pleased to know at least one is a lalafell…” 

Savlor bowed with trademark elzeen grace, “It will be my pleasure general - lalafell are particularly easy to kidnap, providing they don’t bite. We will return successful before the princes return.”

“See that you do.” Mattenix frowned and looked across to his fellow Garlean, now itching behind one ear. “Commander Quitan! You will gather the home legion and join 4th Cohort at Castellum Velodyna and fortify it for the alliance attack expected within the coming week. Crushing the rebellion and bringing the heads of their leaders back to Lord Zenos on his return would be a suitable gift.”

“It will be done.” Quitan saluted, equal pride and bluster in his voice. “Glory to Garlamald.”

Mattanix nodded and then slowly looked over to Fordola, pausing as if in thought, cocking his head to one side. “Yes General?” Fordola prompted the man, itching to know her part in all this. “Did Lord Zenos have orders the Crani Lupi can fulfil?”

“Lord Zenos did not…’specifically’ mention what we should do with your…talents.” Mattenix drawled, and now some hate flashed in his eyes and Fordola bristled as Mattenix continued. “We have a gap on our eastern flank at Castellum Velodyna which is controlled by the Qalyana tribe of Ananta. Should they be persuaded to join the rebellion they could be a grievous distraction and therefore you will…’remind’ them of their obligation to the Garlean Empire.

“Would this not be better suited to an Imperial signals officer or official liaison?” Fordola asked stiffly, she had no love of the beastmen, perhaps Mattenix knew this. 

“These are my orders…commander.” Mattenix now smiled scornfully. “Ensure the Qalyana will respect the neutrality pact and then report back to Ala Mhigo...your brood will not be needed on the front line.”

Fordola felt something snap inside her but managed to choke back the words. “Aye…it will be done.”

“And commander.” Mattenix smiled again, giving her his full attention. “Remind the Qalyana…but if you jeopardise or break down relations with them I will see to it that you are the one to personally explain this to Lord Zenos…”

\---

The next morning Fordola and a score of heavily armed Skulls tramped out of the city.

Ainsfrid was as unimpressed at the orders as Fordola was, “It’s a trap.” He said for the fourth time this morning. “There is no way this can’t go badly! The Ananta hate outsiders equally, the Qalyana tribe only signed the neutrality pact to be left alone equally by both sides. I suspect once the war is won the Garleans will be back to visit again…”

“Aye maybe…” Fordola gritted her teeth (she had been doing that a lot lately) as the two of them marched at the head of the column along the salt banks. “But if things are coming to a head with the Eorzeans no chances should be taken – the last thing we need is a surprise attack on our flanks from the snakes.” 

“Don’t underestimate the beastmen commander!” Ainsfrid dropped his tone and Fordola wondered if he was going to try and grab her shoulder for a moment, such was the intensity in his voice. “The Qalyana tribe is one of the largest groups. They’ve been around since ancient Allag, they are taller and stronger than us, both physically and magically.”

“So captain, what’s the weak point for them?” Fordola gave her second in command a wry look. “Do they even speak basic?” 

“Most of them speak some level of basic aye.” Ainsfrid nodded, the intensity dropping off into thought. “The broodmother is the one with the power, the others will follow her as she is the link to their divine ‘lady of bliss’, Lakshmi – so one way or the other she needs to realize we mean business.”

“Broodmother?” Fordola rolled her eyes. “Would she do anything for her brood...? Something we can use against her?”

“Maybe…” Ainsfrid frowed, flicking the hair out of his eyes. “I have no idea how they reproduce but blood bonds are important between the Ananta...this broodmother has at least one daughter I think, Anamika.” 

“Interesting…” Fordola chuckled but gave her captain an approving nod. “You have done your homework...I didn’t know you were so interested in the beast tribe?”

Ansfrid grunted mutely, stepping aside a large rock that was strewn on the path. “I’m not! Saw one as an orphan once when I was scavenging outside of the city – thought she was going to eat me – I ran like blazes. Emelin is the one fascinated by them – he’d love to be here, rambling for ages about why the Ananta are classified as ‘beast men’ but miqu’ote are not, glad to escape that.”

Fordola almost laughed again, but held herself in check. “Well he’s stuck coordinating with Quitan’s men, preparing to leave for the front. Meanwhile we meet the snakes and Hrudolf is watching Rhalgr’s Reach. Mayhaps, when Lord Zenos returns I can persuade him to let us head out to Castellum Velodyna for the battle.” 

Ainsfrid pursed his lips, now looking up at the clear skies. “The palace is a spider's web of plots and traps being woven and again. I would welcome the chance to face a straightforward enemy in battle again.”

“As would I Ainsfrid.” Fordola nodded thoughtfully. “As would I…” 

Her thoughts drifted to Lord Zenos, now returning to Ala Mhigo. The smouldering intensity of his eyes, the way he had danced with her…the hunger that bled out of him, but for what?

She would soon find out.

\---

It was late in the afternoon as the troop approached the rocky canyon that led into the Qalyana heartland, Djanan Qhat.

  
  
After a short water break, Fordola led her men forwards in double file, into the canyon proper, hand confidently on her sword. For a few moments they marched, then they rounded a rocky corner when a crude stone arch stretched across the canyon, flanked by two watching Ananta

  
  
She had seen Ananta at a distance, sometimes they came to the edge of the city to trade on rare occasion, but the two before her were nevertheless supremely impressive specimens. Each stood half again as tall as a fully grown hyur; from the waist down they had a powerful, snake like body, a coiled, colorful tail of muscle on which they balanced. From the waist up they were the bodies of powerful women. Bare arms covered in tattoos of intrigue latticework, ornate gold breastplates and shrowls of beautiful fine silk covering their chests. Each held a spear as long as Fordola and they raised them manfully as Fordola and the others approached.

  
  
Fordola halted her men a few paces from the arch as the Ananta guards watched them closely. As planned, Ainsfrid walked forwards, a large jar of honey held in both hands which he offered forwards to the two Ananta. “We are representing the Garlean Empire!” He called out loudly. “Your partner and friend, Prince Zenos yae Galvus - offers this gift to your broodmother. In the name of our treaty, and in the harmony of water and fire, we wish to discuss our terms with your broodmother!”

  
  
A moment passed before one of the Ananta lowered her spear and slithered forwards on her powerful tail. She reached down and took the honey in one hand easily, while holding her spear ready with the other. “In the name of water and fire we accept...” She flicked her tongue out as if struggling with the strange words before turning and slithering back up the canyon and out of sight. Moving faster than Fordola could probably run.

  
  
The other remaining Ananta had lowered her spear but still watched warily as Ainsfrid moved back to stand next to Fordola. “Now we wait.” He added, unnecessarily, they had already discussed this.

  
  
A few moments passed, and Fordola was grateful for the canyons shade from the late sun. Then, there was the sound of thumping movement, a slight tremor in the rock underneath her feet and then a dozen Ananta swarmed around the bend in the canyon taking up positions underneath the stone arch.

A leader moved through them to stand at the center. At least a head taller than her fellow sisters and was adorned in golden thread and buckles that shimmered and sparkled with a thousand colours. A steeped crown of lapis, gold and amethyst adorned her feminine face which looked on the skulls with disquiet apathy on full display.

“See the snake to the broodmothers left?” Ainsfrid whispered, indicating an Ananta standing slightly back, unarmed like the broodmother, the only distinguishing feature otherwise being a golden braid around the crown of her blue turban. “That’s the broodmothers daughter.”

  
  
Fordola inclined her head slightly as the broodmother reared forwards and swept the gathered skulls with an imperious, reptilian gaze. “Harmony of fire and water.” She hissed spreading her arms in a half-mocking, half-supplicating gesture. “Friendsssss of the Garlean Empire are always welcome to our landssss…so why have you come?” She arched a thin black eyebrow and fixed Ainsfrid with a withering glance.

  
  
“A major battle will soon take place west of your lands.” Fordola spoke up, drawing the broodmothers attention as she stepped forwards. “In your treaty of neutrality with the Empire there is a clause that requires you to submit a hostage during such major events.” At this she pointed to the broodmothers daughter. “We have come for your daughter, who will be well cared for and protected until the battle is over - whereupon she will be swiftly returned to you.”

  
  
The broodmother powerfully thumped the ground with her tail, raising a cloud of dust before rearing up on her tail even higher and loomed over Fordola; her expression switching to one of pure rage. In the background the other ananta let out sibilant hisses and many shifted weapons in agitation, “What outrage!!” The broodmother hissed, breaking her face down towards Fordola. “The lady of blissss commands that we resssspect our agreements to the death... to acussssssse us...to mistrusssst us in the manner of such an agreement is an outrage.”

  
  
“Well if you are required to respect your agreements to the death.” Fordola raised her voice, so that the wider crowd of ananta could hear. “Then you should have no objection to your daughter joining us, it would only be until the matter with Eorzea is settled!”

  
  
“You assssssk a great deal!” The broodmother gazed at her with pure, cold fury and Fordola mentaly judged the distance between them. If she could leap at the snake and pin her sword to her throat…

  
  
“Mother.” The broodmothers daughter came forward to stand next to the agitated leader of her tribe, a small hand coming out to rest on the broodmothers flank. “It’s okay! I’ll go with the men of iron…I’ll uphold our treaty...please.”

  
  
The broodmother visibly wilted, lowering herself down and looking sadly at her daughter, ignoring Fordola and the others “Oh Anamika…I cannot assssssk this of you…”

  
  
“It's okay mother!” Anamika pushed forwards on her tail, standing between the Crani Lupi and the other Ananta. “The teachings of Lakshmi are clear, we musssst uphold our agreement, I’ll return sssssoon with talessss of the outsssside world.” She turned and moved closer to the cluster of Crani Lupi, who stepped back to allow her into their midst.

  
  
Fordola could see the Ananta were visibly mortified at this moment, but the threat of violence had receded. She had not expected the daughter's acquisition to be so easy and moved her hand back from her sword. “We have an agreement then!” She inclined her head in a polite bow at the broodmother. “We will return with your daughter as soon as the battle is done. In the meantime ensure that no Eorzeans are allowed in your lands…I need not explain the penalty should you do so…”

  
  
“Sssssay no more...” The broodmother looked at her daughter with such a painful longing, before switching her gaze to Fordola. “If one scale on my daughter is bruised…I will call Lakshimi’s vengeance down on all of you and the Garlean Empire…we Ananta are connected you ssssseee…what one feelssss the other feelssss...if she is hurt, I’ll know…”

  
  
“She will be well treated.” Fordola nodded curtly and turned to the others. “Let’s go.”

  
  
The skulls turned, eager to be heading back, the broodmothers daughter now accompanying them with one last lingering look back to her mother before following close until they rounded the bend in the canyon once more, out of sight.

  
  
“Good work commander.” Ainsfrid muttered to Fordola as they increased their distance from the tribe. “I didn’t think you had read the treaty…where did you find the agreement for hostages?”

  
  
Fordola chuckled drily, checking Anamika was a safe distance behind, flanked by her troops. “Never did find it, I guessed they probably couldn’t read anyway.”

  
  
\---

  
  
It was dawn the next day and the sun was rising over the lochs as Fordola and a dozen of her men walked back to Ala Mhigo, the city glistening in the distance as the morning sunbeams caught it.

  
  
Ainsfrid and an honour guard had split from them, taking their hostage to safekeeping at Castellum Velodyna. Mattenix had not been specific about how Fordola should carry out her mission, so this way they could share Anamika’s wellbeing with the Garleans while also being able to observe the pitched battle when it happened. Likewise, Ainsfrid could then return the hostage after the battle on the return to Ala Mhigo.

  
  
Fordola loved the lochs, particularly when – after the murder of her father – she had ran away from the city to escape from it all as a young girl. Walking along the dry, dead banks, feeling the sand between her toes, watching the feral monsters of the area devouring lesser predators. Once, while sheltering from a fierce, hulking Kurreal, she had remembered looking back at the city of Ala Mhigo. Its proud spires, shining walls and the distant lines of the palace, half hidden behind a haze of heat. The city looked so strong, yet it had willingly fallen into the arms of Garlemald. She had made a fist and held it up to the city. Her land was strong, and she would be stronger.

  
  
“Commander!” One of her men brought her out of her memories. “On our right flank, another group!”

  
  
She glanced over the dunes, sure enough. In the distance a group of twenty or so foot-soldiers were approaching, the light glinting off spears on their backs. As she squinted, she noted the orange turbans and markings of her fellow skulls and relaxed. Looking at the cloud of dust in the air, they must have been travelling parallel routes to the city but now the other group had decided to approach.

  
  
The leader of the group offered the traditional skull salute as they came within talking distance, peeling back the turban and face mask to reveal Hrudolfs welcome, weathered face. “Commander! Good to see you! Returning from a patrol?”

  
  
“Something like that…” Fordola twisted her lips in a wry smile, saluting back as she looked over the rest of the troop. The men looked dusty and weary, they must have marched hard to get here. “What about you captain? You should be watching the reach with the rest of your men?”

  
  
“Ah…” Hrudolf offered a smile at that. “I have actually brought a gift for you commander...”

  
  
He stepped aside and Fordola noticed, for the first time, a captive lalafell stood there on tiny legs.

  
  
Her hands were manacled together and she wore an iron collar that was at the end of a chain held by a nearby skull. She had long brown hair tied up in a rough ponytail and wore yellow robes now plastered in dust; a hood flapped on her shoulders where it had fallen loose. She had startlingly blue eyes that stared defiance at Fordola.

  
  
“Is that…one of the Scions Lord Zenos is looking for?” Fordola stared back at Hrudolf. Twelve be told, if it was she could kiss the man.

  
  
“Lord Zenos is after them?” Hrudolf shrugged. “We haven’t had an update in a week or so and spotted a caravan leaving the reach heading for Ala Gannha. My men were low on supplies, so we raided it and took this one prisoner. One of the other rebellion members confirmed she is a Scion as you say after we…encouraged him.”

  
  
“Tortured him you mean!” The lalafell spat on the ground in defiance, her voice shrill but Fordola could hear a well bred tongue in her voice. “We were taking supplies and medicine to the town you butchered our guards and seized all the supplies that should be going to the needy and helpless…not monsters like you.”

  
  
“Oh and she has quite a tongue on her as well.” Hrudolf scratched his head apologetically, smiling good measuredly at Fordola. “We had to gag her the other day but she’s otherwise…largely behaved. Always feels a bit odd forcefully interrogating a potato…”

  
  
“You’ve done very well!” Fordola nodded, a surge of elation building in her chest even as the lalafell spat a second time in defiance earning a cuff around the head from a nearby skull. “Lord Zenos himself has asked for the capture of any Scions and you’ve fulfilled his wish without even meaning to!”

  
  
“So now the monsters take me to the demon prince himself…” The lalafell shuddered, as she fixed her gaze on Fordola. “I saw what he did at the reach, twelve take me, you’ll not drag me before him quietly!”

  
  
The skull cuffed her a second time on the face and she fell silent as the Crani Lupi resumed their march to the city.

  
  
\---

They reached the gates of Ala Mhigo a few hours later, marching swiftly with the lalafell dragged along as fast as she could move on her little feet.

  
  
Bypassing the morning queue of caravans, travellers and workers waiting to be inspected at the gate, Fordola and company marched straight through - learning to their shock from a guardsman that Lord Zenos’s airship had been seen arriving over the palace bare moments ago.

  
  
Setting a blistering pace, Fordola led the group down the main city boulevard, the city population parted like a river before the skulls. The majority of the people paying them no heed, although she saw a few braver souls from the alleyways spitting on the ground as they walked past, but Fordola had no time for distractions. The lalafell, ‘Krile’, Hrudolf had named - walked quietly, head down; despite her earlier proclamations to the contrary!

  
  
They climbed the main steps to the palace and Fordola dismissed the majority of her men back to the barracks, herself and Hrudolf proceeding alone with the prisoner through the winding corridors to the great double doors that lead to the palace chamber.

  
  
The door was guarded and barred by a dozen of Lord Zenos’s personal guard. “Hold commander.” The centurio in charge looked over the strange group appraisingly. “Lord Zenos is currently briefing the local commanders, he’ll call for you when needed.”

  
  
Fordola eyed the man warily, while polite enough she did not want to waste time out here, “Lord Zenos had asked to be immediately informed when a scion prisoner was taken!” She proclaimed loudly, gesturing at the captive. “Announce us, and he will enter us. Delay us, and it will be your head on the line.”

  
  
The centurio no doubt frowned beneath his full face mask at her manner, but he opened the door and slipped inside while his fellow guardsman stared down Fordola and Hrudolf. A few moments silence passed as the two groups eyed each other, before the door reopened and the centurio gestured them forwards, standing to one side.

  
  
Hrudolf had replaced his turban around his face and his mask was in place and Fordola gave him one last nod before she strode forward, into the palace chamber.

  
  
The morning sun had not yet penetrated the dimly lit hall, with its ornate columns from which Garlean flags hung duskily in the gloom. Fordola’s eyes were seized however by Lord Zenos who stood, magnificent, before the throne of Ala Mhigo inself, a naked red blade held in his right hand. A dozen imperial officers standing to attention at his feet.

  
  
As she marched forwards she felt a moment's shock at recognising the armoured bulk of Mattenix standing in his red armour near the front of the clustered officers – he must have recovered more than Fordola had feared. She also noticed the crumpled body of an imperial officer, dressed in unusual armour, dead at the feet of Lord Zenos. She felt less surprise at the dead body than at the knowledge that Mattenix was also in the room and gave her full attention to Zenos, saluting fiercely.

  
  
“Fordola rem Lupis, come at the command of the lord viceroy to present the prisoner taken by the Crani Lupi!”

  
  
She looked back, the lalafell was reluctantly walking forwards, eyes downcast as Hrudolf walked behind her in turn. As the prisoner came almost alongside, Fordola saw her finally look up, definitely at the prince. “Zenos yae Galvus, I presume?” Her tone was more controlled, more cultivated then it had been earlier - nevertheless, whatever she saw in the prince’s eyes plainly unnerved her, yet she held her gaze. “It’s true what they say. You do have the eyes of a monster. A ravenous, insatiable fiend.” She finished with a shuddering breath, tiny fists closing and reopening in their chains.

  
  
If Lord Zenos heard her, he ignored it. Likewise, he ignored Fordola. Instead, with the blade still in hand he looked right, straight at Mattenix. “You. Give the Butcher your weapon.” His words were curt and short.

  
  
“My…?” Mattenix blustered, his face hidden behind the Imperial mask, but Fordola could imagine his lips twisting, his eyes bulging…but like the lalafell, whatever he saw in the prince’s eyes compelled him to obey. “Yes, my lord!”

  
  
Fordola felt her mouth open in disbelief as Mattenix slowly walked forwards, his ceremonial gunblade resting flat across his arms, helmet down – refusing to meet her eyes. Fordola took the weapon with one arm and held it low, turning back to the prince as Mattenix slid back to his position. “My lord, this is – “ _more than just a weapon to me_ , was what she wanted to say. The gunblade itself was a deadly weapon, but more – it was the mark of a Garlean citizen.

She was already a Garlean citizen, but it had been by virtue of her parents – not her actions. With Zenos presenting this blade to her in public, before assembled Garlean officers – he was marking her out as a Garlean equal, a citizen, to all.

  
  
“A reward given in recognition of your service.” Zenos yae Galvus purred, his tone more mellow, more measured. “I trust you will prove more capable then its former owner.”

  
  
She looked down at the glistening weapon once more, before saluted fiercely. Blinking back sudden, unwanted tears of pride that came to her face she proclaimed proudly. “I…I swear I’ll not disappoint you, my lord!”

  
“Good,” Lord Zenos nodded, turning his gaze to the prisoner, smiling thinly. “Now, silence that mewling little piglet. I would not hear another sound pass her lips…until I strip the fat from her.”

  
  
Fordola turned grimly to look at the lalafell, who’s face had gone pale white. Lord Zenos gestured at two of the lowest ranking imperials. “Take her to Aulus mal Asina, he’s been looking forward to our guests arrival.” They stepped forwards, one took the lead from Ainsfrid and they led the lalafell away, the palace doors closing behind her.

  
  
“This meeting is concluded.” Lord Zenos drawled, moving to sit back on the throne, blade mpw casually on his lap. “Take this mess and go.” He indicated the dead Garlean in front of him before looking up at Fordola. “Except you Butcher, stay a while longer.”

  
  
Fordola saluted and remained rooted to the ground as two officers hauled the body away and the other men began to file out behind her. It was the second time he had used the term ‘Butcher’ and this time it sunk in a little - not a name to take pride in maybe, but it might nevertheless convey bloody fear and respect to her peers.

  
  
Mattenix walked past last, slowly and heavily, pausing for a moment – a wordless sign passed between them – and then he was heading away. “I’ll speak to you later commander.” Ainsfrid whispered in her ear, before she too heard his feet retreating, and then a moment later the doors closed. They were alone, Zenos and Fordola, she down at his feet – him high up on the throne.

  
  
“How was your trip m’lord?” Fordola gambled, still standing to attention – the new gunblade held low in one hand opposite her sheathed sword.

  
  
“Oh, the locals were most amusing.” He smirked, his tone lightly mocking. “Although I did see your friend again…the hero of the savages, their precious Warrior of Light…”

  
  
“She was in the far-east!?” Fordola had little concept of the distance between Doma and Ala Mhigo, anywhere beyond the Black Shroud was practically far-lands to her. “She still lives?”

  
  
“Oh indeed.” Zenos smirk grew wider, although he spoke and smirked not to Fordola, but rather to the brandished blade on his knees, which he continued to address. “She grows in power that woman, and now she will be drawn back to the fires of Ala Mhigo…stronger than ever.”

  
  
Fordola digested the words slowly, something in the prince's tone was a bit…strange. His words were particularly sibilant (in fact it reminded her of the ananta the other day), and she could see that unusual hunger…that lust in his eyes again for…what exactly?

  
  
Abruptly, he snapped out of his revere and locked his eyes on Fordola who respectfully lowered her eyes immediately “On my return to this city I learn that Doma has since fallen apart in my absence, 4,000 troops and local levies have been lost along with a considerable amount of magitek equipment! With our eyes diverted east the savages will now strike out from the forests of Gridania. Pilus, you will take what men you have at your command and join the 4th cohort at Castellum Volodyna. You will bring me the Warrior of Light in chains, if you can…dead if not.”

  
  
There was something about the tone, his inflection that spoke on another level there. Fordola wilfully pushed that to one side and nodded, eager already for the battle. “Aye m’lord! It will be a pleasure for the Crani Lupi to destroy your enemies alongside the Garlean legions!

  
  
“Good...” The prince nodded, eyes bearing down at her. “Succeed and I will make every Crani Lupi a citizen of Garlemald, entitled to the full army pension allowance, education and healthcare…should you fail however…” the menacing half-threat was left unspoken and Fordola hardly considered defeat, rather she shook with elation! This was the break she was looking for!

  
  
Through victory - the Crani-Lupi would lead the way to citizenship, blazing a path for Ala Mhigo to follow, it was all in her grasp – all she had to do was… “I will bring you the summoner, I swear it!” She swore, stroking the gunblade with her free hand.

  
  
Lord Zenos nodded, the smile puckering his lips, his eyes hiding secrets Fordola could not yet grasp (but one day would). “Do not go into battle expecting a summoner pilus...the Warrior of Light wears many guises. You may find a dragoon waiting for you, a black mage, a master of the eastern arts…and should you survive the battle we will talk more on this subject but for now – march west to the black bridge!”

  
  
Fordola saluted fiercely once more, turned and marched for the grand palace doors. Her mind buzzing with thoughts. A great battle awaited – the opportunity she had striven for, was in her grasp. Also, a chance to settle accounts with the mysterious hero of Eorzea that dogged her thoughts still…she clenched her fists; she would not fail.

She must not fail.

  
  
\---

  
  
That same day she led almost all the available Crani Lupi out of Ala Mhigo. Two hundred souls, lightly armed and armoured for the rapid march east. Chocobo’s pulling caravans of equipment, supplies and armaments. The mens spirits were high as they all marched towards the blood red, setting sky.

  
  
Fordola led the way, Hrudolf and Emelin at her side marching grimly to battle. 

The gunblade resting firmly at her side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always - thank you for reading, especially if you have gone through all the previous chapters!
> 
> Apologies for a bit of a pause between chapters, I felt my interest in writing waning lately, but managed to fire myself up again this week!
> 
> I'm having to rely more and more on 'Let's Plays' to try and remind myself about how certain scenes went in Stormblood to weave these into the story, if any detail has been missed - I apologize! 
> 
> Anyway, I plan to go to town with a proper battle next time!


	13. The Bridge

#  **The Bridge**

  
The afternoon sun streamed through the upper windows of the Ala Mhigan courthouse, yet the atmosphere within the grand hall remained cold. Fordola could almost feel the eyes of the watching people behind her, boring into the very fiber of her being.

“And thus the skulls came to Castellum Velodyna.” Alphinaud noted, going through his paperwork once more before looking back up at Fordola. “What was the total imperial strength prior to the battle?”

_Flicker, the alliance leaders sat along a long table, waiting expectantly as Alphinaud turned to smile proudly at a smart, blue dressed soldier._

Fordola shook the passing vision away and thought back, shifting the weight of her hand manacles from side to side. “4th cohort, around 480 men were stationed at Velodyna, Quitain brought a large portion of the XIIth legion to join them, a further 3,000 men all told, to which my 200 men were added.”

“And in the way of equipment?” Alphinaud raised a perfect eyebrow at her, quill poised over the table.

_What does it matter now?_ She thought wearily, but answered nevertheless, “Probably around 60 various warmecha, mostly outdated predator suits...then 100 pieces of artillery & mortars maybe? The XIIth legion was lacking in cavalry and none were present, likewise Quitan had no air support.” She pursed her lips at that. “The lack of air support was probably what won you the day all told...that and you faced an incompetent commander on the day.”

Rabaun still appeared to be simmered, as always, but he offered a curt nod at that. “Our numbers were about even then, but had your commander shown more sense and stuck to the bridge itself - we would never have passed that day.”

“Continue with your account.” Kan-E-Senna asked softly, waving Fordola to continue on.

“We arrived late on the night of the third day.” Fordola thought back, shifting the weight on her legs now, refusing to look over at the Warrior. “We made camp just outside the XIIth legions mass of tents on the Garlean side of the bridge. Ansfrid had our hostage safe inside the castellum itself guarded by carefully chosen Crani Lupi. On the evening before the battle I was summoned to a war meeting for the battle on the morrow…”

\---

The black bridge of Castellum Velodyna was a dark and imposing sight, even in the burning sunlight of the Fringes.

The bridge itself was wide enough for a dozen chocobos to cross abreast, its black iron struts and walkway the hallmarks of Garlean efficiency and architecture. The castellum itself was built in the midpoint of the bridge, large gates barricading each side of the midpoint. Behind the iron gates the castellum rose in a black monolith, taller and taller, stretching to dominate the sky. Just below the very apex, spindly airship mooring points reached out - like fingers - to where airships could be safely moored and supplies disembarked. None were currently present.

Above this dizzying height, the spire of the castellum was dominated by an enormous Garlean flag - of greater height then most buildings in Ala Mhigo. The flag a proud symbol of Garlean authority and invincibility, seen for yalms and yalms around.

Far, far below the castellum itself, beneath the numerous black pillars that supported it, the Velodyna River foamed and spat, wild and free.

Fordola disliked the castellum for being a blight on the landscape, but as a soldier she understood the need for symbols, for banners to rally around and to inspire and oppress in equal measure. Likewise when the castellum had been built (under Lord Gaius’s leadership) it had been designed to support the Garlean thrust west into Eorzea - therefore it was less a defensive position and more an offensive supply depot. Nevertheless Fordola was in high spirits - tomorrow, she hoped, they would throw the Eorzeans west in disarray. Tomorrow, she hoped, they would end any vain remaining hopes the Ala Mhigan rebellon still craved. 

Tomorrow, her Crani Lupi would earn the right to call themselves proud citizens of Garlemald. With luck, she could persuade Lord Zenos himself to carry out the citizenship ceremony as a Garlean official. Twelve be proud, she was so close! What would her father think? 

As a trader he had once said to her, in the weeks before his death, that his workers value the results of working with the Garleans, over the process. She hoped it would be the same for the men and women of the Crani Lupi. Her father had also once whispered a strange poem to her, ‘ _As common traitors who drank of muddied waters. Loyalty to whoes end while dressed as whose friend?’_ There were more words, but something of his intonation still stuck with her...all these years later. 

The afternoon sun was ruby red on the horizon as she passed through the open gate of the castellum, Ainsfrid and Hrudolf at her side. Outside the broad doors of the fortification, the castellum was a hive of activity. Dozens of chocobos were drawing carts that were being loaded up from the castellum’s storage dumps, to then be taken back across the bridge to the large Garlean camp that ran along the river. Large squads of Garleans likewise marched back and forth, weapons catching the red setting sun as they ran last minute maneuvers and exercises to keep the men's minds from wandering as to what awaited them tomorrow. 

Fordola and her two captains entered the castellum and the noise cut away. The corridors were slim and oppressive, probably due to the small footprint of the complex and there was barely space to walk two abreast. Luckily, the war-room was one of the first rooms on the ground floor (Ainsfrid had helpfully already explored the building when settling their hostage in), and Fordola marched proudly in, hand resting casually on her Garlean gunblade. 

The room was large, probably taking up the entire ground floor apart from the stairs that led up into the heights of the building. Nevertheless it was crowded with dozens of Garlean officers and captains, clustered around a long table (which a lucky few had managed to secure chairs around). Despite the crowded situation, the Garleans shuffled away as Fordola and her captains entered, as if they were bringing in a bad smell. She ignored the murmurs, the sideways looks or the outright contempt flashed their way. 

At the head of the table, Quitan Rem Delassius sat in full crimson armour less the helmet. Fordola judged it to be rather ill fitting, and far too shiny to have seen any practical use, surely such garb would draw fire from any enemy archers? He was looking over a map of the local area (the detail of which she could not see from her position) and appeared to be receiving a one-way conversation from three nearby Garlean commanders.

“That's the one in charge?” Ainsfrid asked next to her, speaking over the background murmur of Garlean conversation.

“Mmm.” Fordola pursed her lips and allowed her captain to read her face.

A few moments passed, a few more Garleans entered and a few more patronizing looks were sent Fordola’s way. Next to all the shiny Garlean plate armour, her tan leather armour stood her out considerably, as did Hrudolf and Ainsfrids matching Crani Lupi outfits. Fordola watched the eyes twitch from her to the gunblade at her side, it was amusing to almost see the cogs turn in some of the commanders faces.

“ _Ahem_ …” Quitan coughed loudly, looking up from his map at the assembled commanders, of which there were probably now 30 odd, ‘ _such a top heavy organisation’_ Fordola briefly thought. The noise steadily dropped as Quitan looked down at his map once more before continuing, rubbing his chin throughout. “Our scouts have reported that the Eorzean alliance is massing for a full offensive east towards Ala Mhigo, the bulk of which are camped in Castrum Oriens and along the wall. We estimate total numbers of around 4,000 troops will be involved, they in turn will be joined by the Ala Mhigan rebellion at Rhalgr’s Reach, potentially around a further 1,000 irregulars.”

“Do we know the commander of the savages?” A captain seated at a table asked, toying with a knife on the table.

“Almost certainly it will be General Rabaun.” Quitan nodded quickly.

“Could we not splinter their forces?” A second captain spoke up from the back wall. “Destroy them piecemeal?”

“Attacking one location exposes us to an enemy strike from the other.” Quitan explained, addressing the man at the back. “Both the reach and the wall are strong defensive locations. While I have no doubts to our superiority, without air support we would expose ourselves to unnecessary losses.”

He paused, and then continued quickly, throwing his plan out as rapidly. “As we can be supplied from the close side of the river, they will have to commit to a frontal assault. While their defeat would be certain we would not be able to mass sufficient force on such a small battlefront to deliver the crushing victory Lord Zenos has ordered us to deliver. Therefore at first light we will assemble all legions to cross the river and assault the enemy forces with our full might as they assemble! They will be disorganised and easy prey for our superior forces! Victory is assured!” 

His voice had raised to a feverish pitch, Fordola felt questions creep into her mind but kept her mouth shut as Quitain rounded off. “...apart from that, will the commanders of the 4th legion and the Crani Lupi come forwards, otherwise you are all dismissed! Glory to the Empire! Prepare your troops for victory tomorrow! Nos summus manus, Nos sumus deus!” 

He saluted proudly, and the room picked up the echoing roar before the Garlean’s began to exit the room.

Fordola pushed forwards against the crush and made it to Quitan who was gazing down at the map again, another Garlean captain stood ready and Quitain briefly looked over the both of them before speaking to the map. “As we sally forth tomorrow it is important that a rear guard hold the castle, this will fall to half of the 4th legion and the Crani Lupi, understood?”

She opened her mouth, half a dozen rebukes waiting to be thrown at the Garlean stood there expectantly...could she change anything? Would shouting and threatening win her favours with the Garleans? Lord Zenos had said to bring him the Warrior of Light, would she be on the front lines of a battle that was sure to be lost...or would she strike elsewhere...at the only point of retreat…?

  
  
Circles within circles, possible futures danced in front of her.

She shut her mouth and forced a salute. “Aye, it will be done.”

\---

The day of the battle was bright, fresh and clear.

  
  
Fordola slept roughly, tossing and turning that night - chased by the summoner in her dreams, shadows and fire in the woman's eyes. Every weapon Fordola used bent or melted away as she raised it and she was forced to flee and flee through a valley of dust and bones.

She dressed early as first light crept over the horizon, tugging her tanned armour into place, fastening the gunblade loosely into place. Outside her tent she could hear the rest of the Crani Lupi forming up, as Ainsfrid and Hrudolf briefed respective divisions.

Although they may not be on the front lines of battle today, she was confident they would see action, one way or the other. 

The early morning ruby light gave way to blue skies and bird song as the early morning dew evaporated under the increasingly harsh sunlight. 

After inspecting the men and checking they were in good order she led them past the assembling Garlean in their smart rows of tents. The Garleans were rising later and with any lack of true urgency. She saw the same looks she had received yesterday in the war-room repeated to her and the Crani Lupi, contempt, disbelief and hostility. Across the bridge the skulls of Ala Mhigo marched, and into the complex of Castellum Velodyna which they would be defending.

She scanned the far side of the bridge, looking for the telltale glint of weapons or dust on the air that might signify the movement of troops, but nothing. A few Garlean scouts ranged back and forth along the banks of the river, but she focussed on a particularly tall Garlean officer, who had passed through the Garlean picket line and was crossing the bridge towards the castellum and her assembled men.

The figure drew closer, his gait sure and steady. His armour was dented and she could see some caked blood at his hip. As he reached Fordola his arms went up and removed the helmet to reveal Elzeen ears and a familiar set of twitching eyes. 

“Savlor Quo Catradia.” Fordola offered a half salute as she scrutinised the man. Twelve be damned, it looked like he had been walking a long time. “What happened to your airship?”

Savlor offered an even less convincing salute, his eyes twitched left to where the skulls were (for the most part) now sitting down in the shade of the castellum. “Shot down.” He finished curtly. “We were over the Black Shroud when magick bolts of great potency struck at us from the forest, I have never seen anything like it.”

  
  
Fordola turned away from this wretched site and beckoned Ansfrid. “Bring this man some water.” She turned back as Savlor continued, his voice rasping slightly with effort. 

“My first ship exploded in the sky with all hands aboard...on the second ship we managed to crash just across from the wall. Half my men lost on impact. I’ve been on the run all night...ahead of the Eorzean army scouts.”

“And where are the rest of your men?” Fordola asked as Ainsfrid returned with a large flagon of water which Savlor took and greedly drunk deeply before tossing it aside and waving back vaguely at the Eorzean side of the river as if that answered the question.

When it was clear he was not going to say anything more Fordola gestured at the Castellums main doors. “You should sit this one out Savlor, the Garleans will settle things with the Eorzeans, vengeance for your lost men will be had.” 

Savlor’s eyes suddenly focussed on her, and they were hostile eyes. “Don’t be so quick to presume Fordola...I know you are the one that poisoned Lord Mattenix...you had motive, you were there on the night and as they say...poison is a woman's weapon.”

Fordola felt her heart harden and her hand idly stray to her gunblade hilt, a foolish gesture. She felt Ansfrid shift his weight slightly next to her, unease, guilt or aggression? Hard to say, but she reckoned Savlor could see their movements, she projected calmness she didn't feel at the Elzeen. “Careful what accusations you make Savlor...unless you have proof then you are just spitting in the wind...like many of your kind are wont to do…”

The Elzeen’s eyes flashed before twitching to Ainsfrid and then back to her. “I’ve been thinking a lot on this the past few days...when we get back to the city I’ll present my case to Lord Zenos himself...until then…” He shuffled past Fordola and started walking towards the castellum’s doors.

Ainsfrid moved close to Fordola, she saw his hand on his blade hilt as well. “Should we kill him?” He asked softly as Savlor approached the doors. 

“Not now…” Fordola mused, too many eyes, too many Garleans, too many risks. “Focus our energies on the battle to come...afterwards, we will see.”

\---

The sun was starting its climb towards its apex when the Garlean army finally assembled and crossed the River Velodyna. 3,000 men in glistening Garlean army stomped across the bridge, drummers at the front beating the steps under proud white flags. The Garlean warmecha breaking up the columns towing forward mortars and cannons to victory. 

Somewhere, Quitan Rem Delassius had found a chocobo. He rode at the head of the Garlean army as it crossed the bridge past the Crani Lupi. He may have thought himself resplendent in his crimson Garlean armour, but Fordola and the skulls sniggered at his obvious discomfort on the saddle. The man clearly had little experience on a chocobos back. 

As the Garlean ranks began to form up into columns on the Eorzean side of the river, Fordola’s curiosity got the better of her. Leaving the Crani Lupi clustered inside the Castellum, she crossed over the bridge, following the last of the Garleans. Striding forwards through the middle of two divisions, she reached General Quitan at the front, surrounded by a dozen captains. The general was peering into a looking glass at the far treeline a malm or so away which shimmered in the heat haze.

“I’m sure the Eorzeans will be in the forest waiting for you.” She said loudly over the noise of an army forming up, the drums, the shouts, the unhitching of weapons. “It would provide good cover for them. You should burn them out General, use fire artillery shells.”

The general put the looking glass into a saddle pocket and peered down from his chocobo at Fordola. “Commander, shouldn't you be seeing to the defence of the Castellum? The savages when they emerge will be swept aside in moments, Garlean might is assured without the need for trickery or chicanery.”

“All war is acts of deception.” Fordola quoted back to the General, several of the Garlean captains were probably looking at her in annoyance - hard to tell with their helmets on. “I tell you now, the Eorzeans know a frontal assault will not work, they will seek to goad you into the forest - use your mortars and howitzers.” She gestured at the heavy iron weapons that were being assembled along the battle line. “Burn them out with fire, deprive them of cover and they will either assault or retreat.” 

No doubt Quitain opened his mouth (it was hard to tell with his ridiculously spiked red helmet) but that was when a faint trumpet blast was heard in the distance. 

All eyes turned back to the far treeline as the Eorzean forces appeared from the forest. As colourful as they were diverse, under banners of yellow, red, blue and black, the races of Eorzea marched proudly forwards in the distance.

“Savages…” Fordola faintly heard Quitain mutter before he pulled forth his gunblade, turning and hollering to the captains. “Men, prepare for battle!”

  
  
Garlean signal flags were waved and drums began beating a new frantic tone as along the battlelines captains scurried back to their cohorts, Fordola stood fast, behind Quitain, watching the alliance advance. Over a thousand souls had now emerged from the treeline, the banners fiercely flying, their ranks loose and their march steady. Elzeen, Hyur, Miqo’te, Roegadyn...twelve be damned, there were even some bloodthirsty looking Lalafells on the front lines. 

“Prepare, artillery shells!” Quitain held up his left free hand, an Imperial signaller behind repeating the order into a speaker relayed to the artillery units along the Garlean line as the drummers intensified their tone.

Fordola thought about shouting out, _wait for them to get closer you dolt_ , but this would earn her no favours. 

“Fire!” Quitain wheezed, slicing his gunblade through the air and nearly tipping from his saddle in the motion.

  
  
There was a cacophony of thunder from the Garlean cannons, a screech from the howitzers and a crash from a hundred other artillery pieces as they lobbed shells, shot and cannonballs at the approaching Eorzeans. 

The range was far though, and the sun was blinding in its intensity. Fordola watched many shells fall short, but a few crashed down into the Eorzean ranks, and for a moment the advancing army was hidden behind a haze of dust and smoke. 

The Garlean cannons were still reloading as there was a faint whirring sound, Fordola’s instincts sparked and she cringed as a moment later there was an explosion a dozen yalms to her right. 

The explosion fell short of the Garlean line of infantry which nevertheless rippled as the men shifted in their still forming battle line. 

A moment later, the air was filled with more whirring and cannonfire began to strike down at the ground. Many of the shots fell short, but Fordola watched as some of the cannonballs struck the ground and bounced, once, twice before smashing into the Garlean lines. Here and there the lines were struck and men were thrown down, screams of agony were now heard on the wind. It seemed the Eorzean artillery was more potent then she had expected. 

She looked back at the far treeline and saw to her shock, the allied forces were pulling back towards the trees, it looked like they were fleeing in panic! Did they have some artillery covering a sudden panicked retreat? Surely not - she felt her eyes sharpen - the Garleans had hardly drawn blood and what fleeing enemy lugs shields and spears when running?

“They shouldn't have the range of us!” Quitan blustered, his chocobo pacing right and left in agitation. “This is intolerable, inexcusable, how dare they!”

Fordola forced herself to think over the noise and cries of dying men. Only sporadically was cannonfire actually striking the Garlean lines, most fell short and were ineffective. A few Garlean artillery pieces were now firing back towards the treeline, ignoring the fleeing Eorzeans, lobbing shells and shooting at such a distance, it was impossible to know how effective they were. They were being goaded in, she was sure of it.

“General!” She cried up at the prancing fool, his chocobo highly agitated and hardly calmed by its rider. “They are trying to draw you in! Use fire - burn them out!”

But the good general was not listening, instead he tugged his gunblade and raised it high on the air, rearing his chocobo as he bellowed. “Forward men of Garlemald! Forward to victory, forward to the enemy - forward to glory!”

Apt dying words if any.

Flags were waved along the lines and the Garlean ranks broke forwards, 3,000 pairs of boots trampled the dust as they charged forwards, warmecha were unleashed and a wave of men rushed past Fordola on both sides as she stayed rooted to the spot, watching the advance.

As the Garleans charged the enemy cannonfire found their range and inflicted terrible casualties on the charging Garleans. Cannonballs threw men like ragdolls to one side, although the cannonfire seemed to be focussed on the warmecha; she watched as two went down, sparks flying as the iron balls crushed sensors, legs and servos. 

The Garlean ranks had now crossed half the distance to the treeline into which the Eorzeans had now vanished into, charging such a distance in full armour and midday heat was a foolish endeavour and the pace had slowed. She squinted as she could just about make out the crimson shape of Quitan Rem Delassius attop his unfortunate chocobo. His prominent position, crimson armour and the dubious honour of riding a chocobo made him an unmissable target. 

She saw cannonfire strike to the left and right of the yellow bird, it reared and the general fell, out of sight now for Fordola. The ranks of Garlean infantry blocked her vision as they closed the last of the distance, now reaching the trees and being swallowed within them. 

She watched a moment longer, as the noise receded into the distance. The last of the Garleans vanished into the treeline, leaving clumps of bodies and smashed warmecha along the sands. A dazed, riderless chocobo exited stage right, skirting the treeline towards freedom.

Finally, knowing it would do no good to stand here (even though the cannonfire had now broken off from the Eorzeans), she turned and headed back across the iron bridge towards the watching skulls and elements of the 4th cohort. At close quarters, the Garleans would prevail, albit - with needless losses and the Garlean artillery had now fallen silent for fear of striking their own troops.

As she reached her men, offering Ainsfrid and Hrudolf a minute nod she looked up at the main tower of the Castellum. There on a lower level, she swore she could make out Savlor looking down at her with those damn twitchy eyes of his.

Resolving not to stare, she turned and stood side by side with her captains, looking back out across the bridge, and waited.

  
  
\---

  
Minutes crept back as Fordola paced within the confines of Castellum Velodyna. Her troops were spread across the bridge, most checking weapons or quickly talking to each other. The 200 odd men that made up the 4th cohort had moved onto the far bank guarding the unhitched artillery, some were helping injured Garleans return to the Castellum, others were retrieving bodies. 

Minutes crept by, the sun rose higher and Fordola paced back and forth. Would the champion of Eorzea do as she predicted? Would she have a chance to test her mettle a second time?

Then, an alurm sounded from the Castellum main tower, an emey sighted? Conflicting emotions ran through her body and she turned and hurried onto the bridge as around her the Crani Lupi roused themselves.

A storm of dust was now visible on the skies north, along the River Velodyna. Then, along the riverbank, the Ala Mhigan rebellion appeared under flags of royal purple, storming towards the castellum.

Rather than link up with the Eorzean forces, the rebellion out of Rhalgr’s Reach was chancing their luck with a direct strike on the castellum to cut up the Garlean Forces. Fordola scanned the approaching numbers, the majority of which were Hyur this time. In the bright sunshine, they were in far greater numbers then she had anticipated - had the Empires defeat in Doma rallied their hearts and minds so much?

The 4th Cohort on the banks was trying to form up into a line of battle but they were foolishly trying to extend around clusters of artillery which was even now being desperately turned and angled...much too slowly. The rebellion crashed into the 4th cohort as a wave crashes on rock, the din was deafening even back on the bridge. Ainsfrid and Hrudolf had now formed the Crani Lupi up as Fordola hurried to her captains, even as across the bridge she saw the ranks of the 4th Cohort staggering back as the rebellion pushed them hard. Bolts of lightning, fire and ice cut through their armour, as the Garleans fought back desperately against the superior numbers pressing around them. The artillery they so painstakingly were trying to protect already abandoned by mechanics fleeing for the safety of the Castellum 

Hrudolf already had his long, deadly glaive out and was ready, Ainsfrid was extolling the troops but stopped to salute Fordola firmly and pointed towards the melee on the riverbank. “Shall we help the Imperials out before they are overrun?”

  
  
Fordola looked again at 4th Cohort, on the shore - already a number of stragglers were throwing down their weapons and falling back, the Garlean line was bulging back, steadily falling back towards the bridge as the more numerous enemy cut around their thin line. She watched several of the warmecha predator suits fall as they were overwhelmed by the press of the enemy.

“No.” She said harshly, it had to be said, “4th Cohort is already lost, we bring them onto the bridge - Ainsfrid take some archers up on the wall and provide us cover, Hrudolf, form the Crani Lupi into line - we hold them here!!”

  
  
Even as Ansfrid nodded and ran back across the bridge, calling out to various men to follow him with bows - Fordola glanced back to the bank, to see 4th Cohort finally break, the surviving men throwing down their weapons and fleeing as the Ala Mhigans pushed forwards - there at the back of the melee, walking with purpose and vigour, she caught a glimpse of the Eorzean champion.

It was funny really, every item of clothing was different, her stance and weapon was different, but Fordola knew it was her.

When last they had met, at Rhalgr’s Reach, the Warrior had been dressed in loose white robes holding a tome. She fought with savage magicks, a summoned eikon at her side. This time however, she carried a finely crafted eastern blade at her side, a snug black jerkin hugged her slender body, extending into a long skirt that fell to her feet. Even at a distance, Fordola could see the fire in the Warriors eye, the purpose of her walk. Her hair swished left and right as her blade sang, cutting through Garleans like paper dolls. 

Fordola teared her eyes away as the rebellion approached the bridge, cutting down pursuing Imperials. Hrudolf had formed a double loose line of Crani Lupi, spears forwards to face the mass and Fordola moved next to him at the center facing the oncoming charge.

“Stand firm men!” She shouted loudly to her assembled skulls. “Let's show them the strength of the Crani Lupi! For Lord Zenos!”

Her men took up the cheer as the first arrows from the walls of Castellum Velodyna flicked out striking the front row and dropping a few unfortunate souls, but not enough to slow the charge. 

Fordola pulled forth the gunblade, her proud symbol of Garlean citizenship. She had painstakingly charged it with six shots from the Garlemald armorary. She would not waste these shots.

A hulking Roegadyn charged her, broadsword almost as tall as she were raised high. She waited as it came crashing down, lightly sidestepping it and striked a single savage blow with the gunblade. The keenly edged blade sang through the air and severed both arms with hardly any resistance, the massive broadsword dropping to the ground. The Roegadyn only had a second to lament his loss as Hrdolf’s glaive then cleaved his skull in twain. 

Along the line the rebellion stormed into the lines of the Crani Lupi. On the bridge, the rebellion could not effectively use their superior numbers to flank around them - as they had done so with 4th Cohort - instead it was a butcher's battle of blades, battle cries and blood. 

Fordola fought savagely, cutting down three enemies in quick succession, fighting back to back with Hrudolf as enemies cursed and spat at them. A female Miqo’te almost succeeded in bringing her down, a flung knife passed by a whisper to her left ear. Fordola spun away, raised her gunblade and pulled the trigger in the Miqo'tes' spitting face.

They just had to hold on until the Garlean army returned from the woods, they had the superior army, the rebellion was desperate - unless they completely seized the Castellum quickly they would be caught in an anvil between two forces themselves. 

A firebolt tore through the air between Hrudolf and Fordola forcing them apart, and it was then that the Eorzean hero suddenly appeared before her.

How many Crani Lupi had this women felled? How many imperials had she slaughtered? It didn't matter, Fordola would end her, right here, right now!! Damn Zenos and his request for her alive! 

A circle had opened up around them, as friend and foe alike seemed to unconscionably prefer to stay a safe distance from the two leaders.. The summoner who was now a samurai met Fordola’s eyes and there was recognition that sparkled in those blue eyes, even if her lips stayed thin.

“Think you’re clever with all your little tricks?” Fordola seethed, her blood, body and soul itching to fight. “Think again! None of you are leaving here alive.” 

She levelled her gunblade before the warrior could close the distance and fired point blank but the warrior was inhumanly quick - sidestepping in a blur of footwork, Fordola’s shell whizzing over the heads of other nearby combatants. 

In a tight circle the two women circled each other, Fordola caught a glimpse of Hrudolf in the background fighting a familiar woman in red; beyond him skulls battled along the length of the bridge, holding back the rebellions advance. Fordola forced her attention on the warrior’s steely eyes, her heart thudded with anticipation. “You may have survived the Reach, _hero_.” She taunted without response, “But this time, you won’t be so lucky!”

She danced forwards, gunblade swinging down. The Warrior anticipated her movement and danced back, her slender blade ringing out at Fordola who pivoted away, vaguely recognising the strikes from an old manual she had read on easten fighting styles. The warriors' hakaze met Fordola’s gnashing fang, a shifu was barely avoided as Fordola flowed into the rage of halone, her blade flicking left, right, left, right, a blur of motion. The warrior impossibly swayed aside, catching a blow here with aher blade, dancing away again - it was as if she had a sixth sense and could see Fordola’s very attack before it landed!

Rage of halone was a versatile, reliable attack of sweeping blade arcs that overwhelmed any foe, but the warrior expertly continued to weave around Fordola’s strikes and the attack petered out. Into that gap the warrior launched a vicious offensive, Fordola barely deflected a singing yukikaze which left her hands ringing. The warrior pivoted and her blade jabbed out in a series of fast hissatsu steps, again Fordola only just remained ahead of the bladework. 

She gritted her teeth, how could this woman wield a blade so well? She knew little of Allagan summoning, but she knew it took lifetimes to master - and in the Reach, she had faced a master summoner. Yet here, on this battlefield, Fordola now faced a peerless master of the blade. 

“Hero or not, you’ll die just like the rest!” Fordola yelled in frustration, extorting herself to greater efforts. 

She darted back, falling behind the line of battle, opening up more space as the Warrior pressed after her. She fired a third shell widely at the Warriors feet, it wasn't even close and zinged off the armoured surface of the bridge. 

The Warrior still held a low hissatsu profile and swept forward, impossibly quick in a gyoten strike, blade arcing up at Fordola’s face...

It seemed to pass in slow motion, a paper’s width separated it from Fordola’s neck, she felt the blade kiss the air as death was avoided by thousand different variables. Her blood thundered, safe inside her as she grinned lustily, pressed back at the Warrior. Wicked talon was battered aside by the Warriors blade, a goring blade was dodged before their blades clashed and the two locked in place, eyes fixed on each other. 

Fordola expected, wanted, to see hate or anger in the Warriors eyes in that moment. But rather, they were deep, concentrated, bottomless pools of blue. But there was something that flickered...deep within those eyes…something Fordola could not quite put a finger on.

The warrior pushed her back, breaking some space between them. Fordola levelled the gunblade and fired again. This time - her aim was true, this time, the Warrior was off balance, surely she could not dodge this!

As if in slow motion, the Warriors blade came up and arced across the line of Fordola’s fire, and the gunblade bullet was battered aside, deflected away. 

Fordola took half a step away at that, agog. This was sorcery...this was some Eorzean magick! Nobody could catch or deflect bullets with a blade. It was as if the Warrior could see her attacks before they even landed!

“Gods damn you!” Fordola cursed aloud and in that moment of shocked thought, the Warrior could have pressed an attack. But instead, she remained standing, blade centered and Fordola blinked...she could hear...cheering? Cheering and shouting from in front of her! The woman in red (Lyse was it?) suddenly appeared along the warrior and was saying something which Fordola did not hear. The battle on the bridge behind her two assailants seemed to have paused, people were looking up, pointing at the castellum...

Involuntarily, Fordola dragged her eyes up to the black tower of the Castellum. Far up into the sky, past the empty airship moorings, all the way to the very top to see...the mighty white flag of Garlamald was gone! Cut away and replaced by a massive flag of Ala Mhigan purple and gold, the flag of the Ala Mhigan rebellion was there! Somewhere far away a trumpet was crying the tune of victory. 

Fordola felt shock grip her to the core and that trumpet kept blasting the sound of victory as if the battle was already decided! Already she could hear a shout being taken up, “Ala Mhigo, Ala Mhigo, Ala Mhigo!” She looked back at the bridge and felt white hot fury grip her in its iron claws as she watched first one, then another, then every other Crani Lupi surging back across the bridge! Weapons were thrown aside as they fled in fear and panic as the rebellion cheered and crashed weapons on shields in a cry of victory. Where was Hrudolf!? Why was he not rallying the men!?

“Stand your ground!” She cried as her men streamed by on either side. “It's not over yet!!!” 

They were so close! They had the bridge, they had the castellum (she fervently hoped), they had archers on the high ground, the Garlean army would be even now returning to strike the rebellion a crushing blow...why were her men running? Had the snakes betrayed them from the rear??

She looked back at the Warrior who stood there, steady and firm - the cheering members of the rebellion behind her, the red woman at her side - determination and hatred in her eyes - had she bested Hrudolf?

Fordola cursed, she bit her lip, she fought a thousand conflicting emotions. A core of her wanted to throw herself at the warrior again, to battle until she had victory or defeat. But she knew that she had responsibilities beyond her personal desires.

  
  
A hand furiously dug into her tunic and threw breaching smoke to the ground as she turned and furiously charged after her fleeing troops. 

\---

Raubahn snorted. “We thought you were in charge at Castellum Velodyna…I see our intelligence was wrong on that count.”

Fordola looked down at the stand, not daring to meet her accuser's eyes. Even now the retelling of that event filled her with a feeling of powerless rage, they had been so close! But it had all turned to ashes at what should have been her moment of triumph! She was dimly aware of her mouth moving as she whispered the words. “The Garleans would never have been deigned to be led by a savage.”

There was a brief silence at that before Raubahn continued, his voice surprisingly gentle. “It was a terrible battle in the woods...the Garlean numbers and weapons were greater than ours. Even as we turned to face them, having lured them away from the castellum; using every cover, every magick, every clever trick to hold them back the Garleans pressed us hard.” He stroked the scar on his face thoughtfully. “Many lives were lost that day...too many.” 

Admiral Merlywb was leaning back in her chair, but she turned her face to the broad man. “I understand the battle would have long been lost, had not the bull of Ala Mhigo been there to hold every flagging line..rally every ally and comrade around him…”

Raubahn snorted at that, waving away the admiral with a broad, weathered hand. “Still, we would have lost and Fordola, perhaps you would have had your victory. Aye, were it not for the bravery and skill of our flyers in raising up our colours on the heights of the castellum. In the forest the Garleans broke into confusion and disarray, no leader there to rally them - no general to see them to victory - they broke and fled in confusion.”

“Where did the Garleans flee?” Fordola asked suddenly, her neck snapping back as she looked at Raubahn, although she feared she knew the answer. “If not back towards the Castellum and the resistance forces?”

Raubahn stayed silent and it was the soft voice of Kan-E-Senna that spoke, “When the Garlean forces saw the castellum had fallen, they fell into a terrible panic. We took some prisoners, but most instead fled north towards The Striped Hills...no doubt they thought to escape through the pass of Djanan Qhat…”

“Poor bastards…” Fordola whispered. By the time the Garleans would have reached the Ananta territory the broodmother would have turned and the snakes would have been running feral under their new primal...did any Garleans make it back to Ala Mhigo alive?

“What happened next?” Lyse asked, adjusting her red dress, looking a slight bit impatient. “We had taken terrible losses in taking the bridge and were content to let you flee. When we eventually approached the castellum it was deserted, where did you go then?”

“Ansfrid read the situation…” Fordola continued, the memories still painful. “He left the north gates of the bridge open for our troops to flee and pulled his archers to the south gate which they sealed when the last troops had passed through. With the gates sealed, most of my men had rallied and gathered on the far south bank of the Velodyna River...half of what we had started the day with. Savlor, Twelve curse him, was smart and somehow knew about our hostage, Anamika - he had her with the rest of the skulls while I stood on the steps of the bridge, arguing with my captains…”

\---

“Commander!” Hrudolf pressed, no explanation yet given for his absence at the critical moment. But his tone was urgent and he looked back up at the sealed bridge gates behind her, as if expecting the Eorzeans to pour through at any moment. “The 4th Cohort has been routed! We’ll be at the mercy of the enemy’s reinforcements if we don’t fall back now!” 

“Idiot!” Fordola snapped, her blood still pounding with rage, shame and confusion at how this had all gone wrong. “We have the stronger force by far!” _Surely_ , any moment now the Garlean forces would be advancing on the rebellion, and they would retake the Castellum, _surely_ they would not have fallen for some flag waving nonsense!? “Don’t be taken in by their tricks!” She urged Hrudolf and Ansfrid passionately, although she knew their options were moot if the Garleans had truly been defeated. “Or would you rather tell Zenos you lost to this rabble!?” The thought made her blood cool rapidly. 

“No, but if the snakes betray us in the confusion, we’ll have no way out!” Ainsfrid’s voice was equally urgent, looking back to the bank and the few skulls (far too few) that surrounded their hostage, the jet black hair of the Elzeen, Savlor, by her side. “I’m begging you, Commander - give the order, or we’ll all die here!”

Fordola looked at Ainsfrid in shock. Her second in command had never seemed so defeated, so lost...so helpless. Where was the leader she had seen as a young girl? The fearless youth of Ala Mhigo? Her right hand man seemed lost in the moment, Hrudolf next to him, her strongest blade was nodding in agreement. When had they lost their spirit, their passion? 

“...As common traitors who drank of muddied waters…” The poem of her youth escaped, whispered, between her lips, “...For all the good it did us.” She hardened her hearts to resolve. “Skulls with me!” She projected her voice, so that all her troops on the shore could hear her. “The day is theirs and so is this bastard bridge. Someone bring the snake, we strike east!”

She thought of the prince awaiting her return, and shivered involuntarily. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Thanks for reading - this one was a bit of a struggle in some regards!
> 
> I've been watching some of the Lets Play accounts to remind myself of how it went down, but as always this is an adaption, hmm...
> 
> I appreciate the gaps are getting bigger between uploads, but I am still determined to finish this story!
> 
> Reads, Kudos, Comments are all massively appreciated, Thank you


	14. The Return

#  **The Return**

“Of all the charges before you…” Alphinaud glanced again over the papers strewn before him, “We must now directly address some of the most serious. The murder of an unarmed hostage, which led directly to the summoning of a primal and the enrapturement of the larger part of the Qalyana tribe…” 

Fordola nodded, what was there to say to that? Her heart was heavy remembering the events. She had been angry, bitter - her men had been tired, wounded and they had all imagined their enemies were close behind them…

\---

The remains of the Crani Lupi trudged east, away from the black bridge of Castellum Velodyna.

Ansfrid had done a quick tally, they were around 140 souls strong, although half were injured in some form or another. A single unarmed magitek unit had been scavenged from the imperial camp before their hasty withdrawal. It now chugged along at the back of the ragged column, drawing a cart filled with the twenty odd men and women too injured to even walk. One had expired shortly after their departure, Fordola had designated two men to quickly bury him and catch up with the column as soon as possible.

She resisted the urge to constantly look over her shoulder, half expecting to see a column of dust as the Alliance forces closed in behind them. But as time passed, and the Castellum steadily slid from view (but not the massive, mocking Ala Mhigan rebellion banner flying lazily in the sky), she began to breathe easier.

Apart from the severely injured, the Crani Lupi were broadly in good form, armed and armoured. A dozen men surrounded Anamika, their captive hostage – the snake wide eyed and plainly unsettled, her heavy tail regularly thumping the ground even as she was hurried along. Fordola had already made her decision, the snake would come with them. Since the battle was lost, it was even more important the ranks of their enemies not grow in greater numbers. Such an important hostage would help remind the Qalyana tribe of their obligations as she saw it.

Walking slightly ahead, and away from the Crani Lupi, the Elzeen, Savlor Quo Catradia limped on, head and pointy ears held high. He had changed into fresh breeches and a lightly armoured goatskin jacket, but Fordola noticed blood spots had already appeared at his waist. From the Elzeen’s hand clenched around the hilt of a thin rapier blade occasionally blood would gather and then fall into the dusty sand, before being trampled under the boots of her men.

The Crani Lupi trudged on, the high afternoon sun beat down on them making every moment making the shades of the high rocks and crags around them a blessed relief.

She kept her eyes fixed forward, as Hrudolf and Ainsfrid walked up to join her on either side. She was disappointed in her captains; she still could not understand why they had been so insistent on their demands to withdraw. She fluctuated between expecting the alliance to close in on them, or imperial scouts to confirm the battle had been won when the Garlean army smashed the rebels from the rear. Either would finish them as a fighting force for Lord Zenos.

“No sign of pursuers.” Hrudolf stated the obvious icebreaker to which Fordola simply grunted, her eyes digging into Savlors back, the Elzeen could probably hear this discussion.

A moment of awkward silence lingered before Ainsfrid took up the efforts to engage her, walking briskly alongside. “Where to now commander? Back to the city?”

“No.” She was as sure about this as she ever had been about anything. “We make for Specula Imperious.”

It was an easy decision; they, she, could not return to Ala Mhigo as a defeated rabble – that would be the end of them. If the alliance pushed on; as it must, the next defensive line between them and the walls of Ala Mhigo itself was the mighty fortress of Specula Imperious. Not only was it walled and garrisoned on favourable terrain astride the main trade route to Ala Mhigo, but it also benefited from the monstrous artillery cover from nearby Castrum Abania – high up in the nearby mountains. At Specula Imperious her wounded could be treated, and her men play any role in the Garlean counteroffensive.

This she did not explain to her two captains, and they did not ask for an explanation, instead walking alongside her in silence. She wondered what they would make of her other decision, the one she kept to herself…Once her men were safe within the walls of Specula Imperious she would head on alone to Ala Mhigo. To explain the defeat to Lord Zenos, and ensure she paid any price for this, while her men and captains had a chance to redeem the name of the Crani Lupi.

She was brought off her thoughts when she nearly walked into the back of Savlor. She blinked in annoyance but followed his gaze up, up onto the rock crags around them – as the Crani Lupi column behind came to a noisy halt.

Dozens of Ananta snakes occupied the high ground, many held great bows as tall as Fordola, others with long, sharpened spears, brandished menacingly for them to see. The sun glinted off the jewels that were wrapped around their chests and down to their thick, muscular tails.

Fordola heard the murmurs of her men behind her as they came to a halt, she also heard the groans of her wounded in the caravan. Her hand grasped the hilt of the gunblade; she still had two shots left.

“Commander…” Ansfrid pointed ahead, Hrudolf already had his battle glaive grasped in both hands.

Fordola looked ahead, to see a dozen more Ananta approach, flanking the broodmother herself, crown gleaming brilliantly atop her perfect female face. While the broodmother was unarmed, all her entourage carried wicked looking blades, their reptilian tongues flicking in and out in agitation or aggression. Not a good sign.

Ansfrid had raised his hand and was flicking hand signals to the Crani Lupi who drew up in a circle facing outwards in front of the disarmed magitek unit. Most weapons were now out, small shields facing around. Fordola shot a look at their hostage, back next to the magitek caravan, her guards looking very worried.

“Come a step closer and we slit your daughters throat!” Fordola bellowed out to the approaching Ananta. Twelve be damned, she didn’t have time for this! She turned back to the nearest guard to Anamika and gestured, the skull put his blade menacingly close to the broodmothers daughter, her eyes going wide at the cold steel as it flashed in front of her eyes.

The broodmother reared up, slapping the ground with her tail in rage, her entourage following suit, tongues flicking angrily. Up on the crags above, Fordola could hear the other snakes hissing angrily.

“You daaaaaaaaaare!” The broodmother raged, her voice echoing across the sand only twenty paces from Fordola, Savlor having slid back behind the ranks of the Crani Lupi.

“Aye I dare!” Fordola grinned back wickedly, all her rage, frustrations and impotency coming to boil. She pulled forth the gunblade and casually slapped the side of its blade against her leg nonchalantly. “Now move aside, and we’ll be on our way! Your daughter will be returned safe and sound, I promise.”

  
  
“Your words are meaninglesssssssss!” The broodmother hissed even louder now, drawing herself up to her full height, towering over Fordola and the Crani Lupi. “You gave us your word that you would return my daughter once the battle issssssss done! It isssssssss done, you lossssst and now you will return by daughter!”

“If she moves a step closer, kill the snake!” Fordola barked back to the skull holding his blade to Anamika’s trembling neck. She turned back to the furious broodmother. “I’m warning you serpent, back off!” And suddenly, several things happened very fast.

The broodmother lunged forwards suddenly, not with any movement to strike Fordola, but more like an angry spasm of hardly hidden rage. Then suddenly the broodmother was looking past Fordola and screaming a high pitched, sibilant scream of rage and horror.

Fordola felt her knuckle clench on the gunblade as she turned and saw to her horror the form of Anamika, slumping to the ground – the skull at her side holding a blood red sword and looking at it in a daze, as if he was trying to work out a puzzle that remained unsolved. The other Crani Lupi in their tight formation now shuffling backwards, away from the screaming broodmother.

“What in blazes did you do!?!” Fordola shouted at the unfortunate soul as Ansfrid darted to the side of the fallen Ananta, bending down to check on the hostage. Hrudolf was closer to the bulk of the Crani Lupi, trying to steady the men.

“I’m, I’m sorry…” The stammering voice was hardly heard over the commotion from the Ananta and the broodmothers rage. “She spasmed against my blade, I didn’t mean to…”

Whatever he didn’t mean to d9, he didn’t get a chance to finish the statement. Three huge wooden arrows fired from the rocks above skewed him where he stood, body thudding to the ground next to his slain hostage.

Ansfrid darted away from the fallen body and fell in with the Crani Lupi and Hrudolf. Fordola felt herself moving back towards her men as well, legs moving involuntarily, she could hardly hear over the sounds of pure anguish coming from the broodmother.

“Oh Laksssssssssshimi!” The broodmother howled to the sky. “Lady of Blisssssssssss, undo what these men have wrought!”

There was a terrible thunderclap, a burning blaze of light enveloped the broodmother. Her form twisted, it changed, it grew and contorted up and out. The broodmothers entourage fell back from the blaze of light, shielding their eyes from the visual fury, as did Fordola.

Finally, mercifully the shriek of rage from the broodmother was gone. When Fordola looked though, a Goddess now stood. Huge, voluminous billows of blue silk and gold had formed out of the air and enshrouded a woman of pure golden light, that even before Fordola’s shocked eyes rose off the ground and floated serenely in space.

“Fall back, fall back!” Fordola shouted, real fear gripping her heart. She knew little about primal’s, apart from the rumours and what they had mentioned at the Garlean training camp. The mere presence of these creatures would twist the hearts and minds of nearby creatures to their whims, as a reed bends in a gale.

She noticed the glazed eyes on the Ananta surrounding the primal, how all the noise had stopped (except for the cries of fear from the Crani Lupi). The fear in her breast beat harder and she turned and ran.

The Crani Lupi had already begun fleeing, Ansfrid beckoning her on. Hrudolf had leapt atop the Magitek unit and was spinning it round, pulling the wounded caravan about as fast as they could go.

Fordola fled, fear and shame mixed in her heart, surrounded by her routing men and women. Mercifully the snakes did not pursue or fill them with arrows, too enraptured were they in the arrival of their goddess.

Behind them, on the dust, the corpse of Anamika lay abandoned.

\--

“Bloody outrageous” Raubahn muttered loudly for all to hear. 

“That's how it happened.” Fordola responded sharply, feeling a bit of the old fire flare in her. “I don’t know how the unfortunate sod did the deed, maybe he was nervous, maybe he was on edge, maybe the snake moved suddenly – his last words were that he’d mean to - I didn't get a chance to recognise the man.”

“Yet he should never have been put in that position.” The seedseer spoke up, her eyes betraying no emotion. “Your words, actions and deeds led to his blade being at her neck.”

“I had no intention of our hostage dying!” Fordola angrily retorted, “Aye, I was not in the right frame of mind, nor where those I led – but we were forced into that situation by the Ananta!”

“A pithy excuse,” Admiral Merlywb snorted now, her limited aether swirling and clouding angrily around her head which only Fordola could see. “You should have understood your situation and returned the hostage as you yourself say you promised. Were it not for our friend here,” at this she nodded to the seated Warrior of Light, “That primal could have made its way to enrapture all of Ala Mhigo itself!”

“Indeed.” Lyse nodded, flicking her blond hair out of her eyes as she looked at Fordola straight on. “That said...I can understand the anguish you were going through...I believe you when you say you didn't mean for the hostage to die…”

_Flicker, an endless steppe of green lay before her, the Warrior of Light walked at her side, the rich smell of wet grass in the air…_

“The point is made.” Alphinaud spoke up, cutting Raubahn and Merlywb off as they both opened their mouths to speak. “Our esteemed friend saw the moment through her gift, her conclusions were similar. We will have time to debate this later, at judgement; for now - tell us of your return to Ala Mhigo...and your...modification.” 

Fordola only half heard the last, meeting the Warriors eyes, Sara gazed back steadily and for once her manufactured Echo did not sweep her away - and she was glad of it.

She dragged her gaze back to the white haired youth, and resumed her account. “We made it safely to Specula Imperious early that night. The garrison was on full alert but admitted us and I got my men into what treatment the Imperials would give us. I spent a restless, quick night's sleep before preparing to leave at first light...alone for Ala Mhigo. I had hoped to leave quietly, Ainsfrid would know what to do, but I wasn't so lucky…”

\---

“Fordola!” The shout cut through the early morning air, unwelcome and unwanted.

She stood at the open gates of Specula Imperious’ eastern entrance. Gunblade at her side, dressed in her customary worn leathers, boots dusted for the road ahead. The path led before her through The Peaks, and from there she would reach the checkpoint at Porta Praetoria, The Lochs and Ala Mhigo by sunset - with a fast march and a hard heart.

But the shout stopped her, it was a familiar voice. She turned, squinting in the sunrise and the early morning light that bathed the peaks behind the fortress in a golden light and the two figures running towards her. Of course it was Ainsfrid and Hrudolf.

Both were dressed, although Hrudolf was not bearing his customary glaive, his worried expression matched that on Ainsfrid. For a moment, Fordola was reminded of them as young boys, running through the streets of Ala Mhigo, orphans, runaways, cast outs - had they truly come this far? Or had it not been that far at all?

“Commander…” Ainsfrid breathed heavily as they came to a halt next to her. “Where are you going?”

“You know where I am going!” Fordola retorted, sharper then she meant. Twelve be damned, she hadn't wanted this scene. “I will return to Ala Mhigo and take responsibility for the loss of the black bridge. You and the Crani Lupi must stay here and recover. This must be the anvil that withstands the hammer of the alliance - the Crani Lupi must pay a part in turning the tide. Redeem us for the imperials.”

“I’ll come with you.” Ainsfrid and Hrudolf both said at the same time and Fordola balled a fist, before forcing her breathing to slow down, taking in the earnest look on both men’s faces.

“No!” She said firmly, but then “No…” more softly. A moment passed, somewhere a bird trilled a morning song before she continued, “Lord Zenos is not known for his mercy. Let me pay the price for our loss - let the Crani Lupi stay here and play their part in victory...perhaps then, there is still a path to citizenship for you all.”

“It was never about being citizens Fordola…” Ainsfrid started, his lip twitching, Gods...was he going to cry, or strike her? “It was about being something bigger than we were, going from being a bunch of street urchins and castouts and...standing alongside the Imperials, pulling our weight, showing them we were worth something! For all the hate and disregard we’ve seen from our kinsmen and, aye, the imperials - we are making a difference! One day, there will be a future where we will be the first partners alongside the Garleans, our city will recognise us then, Ala Mhigo will thank us for leading the way. Even if we die before we earn the respect from our countrymen, our children will point to us as those that led the way, in a better future.”

Fordola realised she was shaking her head and stopped, she reached forwards and put a hand on Ainsfrid’s chest, looking at his sand blasted face sadly. “You’ll be commander now Ainsfrid, lead the men well.” She looked over to Hrudolf, not trusting herself to meet the others eyes. “Keep him safe as well you hear? When I get back to the city I’ll send Emelin and any stragglers to join you before meeting Lord Zenos.” 

Hrudolf nodded as Ainsfrid brushed an eye suddenly, before stepping closely, his tone low but urgent, “What about just...running away Fordola? We could do it! The others would follow us - we’re a band of brothers and sisters, let's just melt away into the mountains - let the Alliance and Empire fight it out!” 

“For what reason?” Fordola shook her head, heart too heavy with sadness to feel anger. “We’re seen as dogs by the Imperials, and kinslayers by our people now. Let's not be hunted down like animals - you must stand, fight, survive and grow stronger.”

Ainsfrid looked like he had something else to say but he closed his mouth as Hrudolf shook his head slowly, his deeper voice stoic. “It's not goodbye, commander...we’ll meet again. Lord Zenos must know the defeat was not our doing, we’ll wait for you here and hold the line for you, Emelin and the rest of the Ala Mhigan Skulls; as long as it takes.”

Fordola didn't know what she could say to that...so she raised her hand in the traditional salute of the Ala Mhigan Skulls, from all those years ago. A moment later Ainsfrid and Hrudolf saluted back, as they had two years ago when they left Ala Mhigo for the first time - to head to the Imperial camp as the newly formed Crani Lupi.

Determined not to let further tears be shed, she span round, hand on the gunblade hilt at her side and strode purposefully out of the gates onto the eastern road. Ainsfrid and Hrudolf remaining at the gates, watching her until she rounded the corner and had disappeared from sight. 

For her part, Fordola felt her eyes itch uncontrollably, but she kept walking firmly - this was the right course, the just course!. But then, from behind an iron, Garlean lamppost she saw a figure detach and walk towards her, his lithe frame hiding the slight limp in his gait...it was Savlor Quo Catradia.

“What do you want Savlor!?” She testily demanded, praying to the Twelve he could not see the wetness in her eyes.

The Elzeen’s neutral face cocked slightly to one side, those twitchy eyes fixed to her. “I was waiting for you commander...I will join you on the road to Ala Mhigo.”

“So that you can report to the one that holds your leash, Mattanix?” She asked bitterly, briefly toying with the idea of cutting him down before he could draw his sword. Gods, she felt like it.

“But of course.” The Elzeen responded, without a moment's pause, as if it were obvious. “We each have masters to report too, however I have a better idea than you of how to direct my liege’s displeasure…”

Fordola knew what he meant. Present or fabricate proof of her poisoning attempt to Mattanix while Zenos killed her for the loss of the black bridge...yes all wrapped up with a neat bow. She could...should...strike him down now...he was still injured, she had nothing to lose, but then…

“The other Crani Lupi will still serve Lord Zenos and General Mattenix?” She asked suddenly, thinking on the faces of Ainsfrid and Hrudolf as she had last seen them.

The Elzeen blinked rapidly, but then realised what she was proposing, and he then slowly nodded. “Aye...General Mattenix will have more important things on his mind then them.”

“It's settled then.” Fordola started walking, striding past the Elzeen. “History will not mourn, should the Lupis line die out…”

She heard the Elzeen fall into step behind her, as they trudged east, back to Ala Mhigo.

\---

The long walk was tortuously quiet. Alone, Fordola could have allowed herself to dwell on happier memories, or admire the stark beauty of the Ala Mhigan Peaks. However, conscious of Savlor limping behind her, she instead dwelled on her failings, her weakness, her rage.

Through it all, the figure of the enemy champion, the summoner, samurai, Warrior - whoever she was, tormented her. She was a symbol of Fordola’s impotence. If she did not have the strength to cut her down, she was not fit to lead the Crani Lupi or serve at the pleasure of Lord Zenos. It was all her fault, and she hated and was fascinated by this mythical seeming fountain of strength. 

They passed military caravans and marching Garleans heading west, back towards the fortress...too few Fordola thought, too few. 

They reached the checkpoint of Porta Praetoria at noon - the checkpoint was in chaos, Garleans flapping every way, magitek units being checked over frantically, an air of confusion permeating the air. Fordola and Savlor were hardly glanced at as they continued following the traders road through The Lochs. The city now shimmering before them in the afternoon’s heat haze, the road abandoned of trade caravans, only troops and military supplies could be seen, flowing back the way they had come. 

They entered the main gates of the city and moved up the central boulevard. Fordola noted the increased number of Imperials, how they were hardly any civilians on the streets, but otherwise remained consumed with her own thoughts. Behind her, Savlor padded on, his limp not stopping him from keeping up.

Finally they climbed the last steps to the royal palace, a brilliant sunset illuminating the Imperial flag with the lights fading glory. Fordola found the last steps hard, the days long walk without hardly a break had been tough. But now, as she neared the end she found her heart heavy, fearing the end. Again she cursed the enemy champion! The Eorzean hero had taken everything from her! Or so she told herself. Only her anger kept her walking.

The grand entranceway to the palace loomed ahead flanked by royal guards and Fordola slowed, turning to Savlor as the Elzeen came to a halt next to her.

“I presume we part ways here Savlor?” She grimaced, a fleeting regret at not prehaps killing this cur passed through her head. 

The Elzeen gazed impassively at her for a moment, before nodding. “Aye, we have different masters to report to...besides you have another to accompany you.”

She turned back to the palace gates, and saw Emelin, dressed in full Crani Lupi gear waving broadly, starting towards her and Savlor.

“I will give you a day to make your goodbyes and report to Lord Zenos.” Savlor spoke quickly and quietly before the comrade could reach her. “If for some reason he does not kill you there and then, know that Mattenix surely will thereafter, directly or indirectly. I give you this time to make your peace with Hydaelyn, and for me to prepare my report and rest.”

Before she could retort, the Elzeen brushed past her, even as Emelin strolled past him, coming to a stop before her, eyes wide.

“Fordola! Commander!” He corrected, itching his ginger beard and beaming with delight. Fordola felt her heart thud, even after two years, he still seemed a boy to her at times. Too innocent for the frontlines, but too intelligent and likable to not be a captain. “Where are the others? ” He asked, looking around her, as if expecting the Crani Lupi to crest the steps behind her a moment later.

“It's just me Em,” she tried to force a smile, but it probably came out as a wince and Emelins face suddenly looked drew very still.

“Rumours of a battle have filled the city...are they all…?” His breath caught on the words.

“Gods no!” Fordola waved a hand to dispel the notion. “The Crani Lupi have fallen back to Specula Imperious, aye we’ve taken losses but Ansfrid and Hrudolf are there and preparing a counterattack. I want you to take any remaining Crani Lupi out to the fortress this very night while I report to Lord Zenos. Link up with the Garleans and assist them in driving out the enemy.”

“But…” Emelin looked left and right, as if searching for eavesdroppers before continuing. “The city is filled with rumours, Garlean reinforcements are being sent to the front but in few numbers, many are still within the city...Garlean high command is in chaos, General Mattanix has been in council with Lord Zenos all day.”

“I must go to Lord Zenos and tell him what has happened.” Fordola set aside the rest of her words, a dead woman should avoid judgement. “I will try to tell him everything I know so that he can make the best strategic decisions as he sees fit.”

Emelin looked like he was holding his breath in, his face had gone ashen and she moved to walk past him but Emelin sidestepped in her way. “Fordola, no! Lord Zenos kills those that bear such news...Come with me, we can run away, join the others and leave…”

“No!” Fordola kept the words level, but looked him firmly in the eyes. “The Crani Lupi will not be remembered as cowards who turned and fled! I will take full responsibility for our failure to hold the black bridge.” She softened her voice and reached out to grasp Emelin’s shoulder. “Your mum still works at the soup kitchens doesn't she, Em? Go to her, make peace with her if you can, then head for Specula Imperious tonight with the others...that's an order captain.” 

“No!” Emelin repeated her level tone, his eyes determined. “I’m coming with you to Lord Zenos, we’ll face him together.”

Fordola shook her head sadly, “No Em...you have a responsibility to the other Crani Lupi still in Ala Mhigo. Lead them out of the city, join up with Hrudolf and Ainsfrid...I don’t want any Skulls in the city in the aftermath of my report just in case…” 

Emelin wavered, but he could surely see the steel determination in her eyes. Finally, he imitated her other captains earlier that day and saluted her fiercely, blinking his eyes rapidly. “Fine, but I will walk with you to the royal audience chamber...Lord Zenos is there now holding council as I mentioned.”

Fordola nodded, and her heart felt a bit lighter. She was glad her last walk would not be alone, but beside a captain, a brother - like Ainsfrid and Hrudolf. 

\---

The wide corridor to the palace room was now dimly as the diminishing sun streamed through the skylights above. The ornate animal statues on either side watched Fordola in disappointment as she strode past, Emelin loyally behind. His skull mask back in place at her insistence, she didn't want him to be easily recognised by any Garlean tonight.

Ahead of her, the palace doors opened and her heart sank as Mattenix emerged, accompanied by a ranking Garlean officer. The general motioned to one side and the two Garleans stood together by the palace doors as Fordola and Emelin approached. 

“Ah, the savage returns.” Mattenix’s gloating tones travelled across to Fordola as she walked past. “With her tail firmly between her legs, beaten by the beastmen, I hear.”

  
  
She stopped before the palace door and involuntarily turned her head to see Mattenix loudly talking to the other Imperial officer, who shrugged, loudly responding in a like tone for all to hear. “‘Twus a shameful display, by all accounts. She may have curried the viceroy’s favor with her bold promises, but in the end, she’s just another plodding bungler like the rest of her kind.” 

“Strange, you would think him a better judge of character.” Mattenix made a great show of looking thoughtful, revelling in the moment, before adding in a loud afterthought. “Then again, I hear she’s not averse to a more physical mode of persuasion.” 

“Hah.” The officer chuckled loudly at that, “I thought she rose through the ranks rather quickly. But no longer...if only she had been content with her lot, she might have lived to see the morrow.”

So news of a defeat had reached the city, even if the details were garbled - did they know the Garlean army had also been laid low? Nevertheless she felt a strange emotion tug at her, she should be angry...as a dead woman walking, she could at least kill these two before her. But instead, she felt overwhelming sadness that this was how it was going to end, and these two would be the last to see her.

She then saw Emelin turning, balling his fists and put an arm across his chest blocking him. He looked at her, how she longed to see his face unburdened by the mask suddenly! She shook her head, all might be lost for her, but she would not give the Garleans any excuse to take it out on the rest of the Crani Lupi. 

She took a deep shuddering breath, as Emelin fell back in behind her, face downcast. The great palace doors had closed at some point, another Garlean standing smartly to attention by the door, no doubt taking it all in. Ten steps and a door separated her from the prince...and the end of her story.

She took five steps and paused, with Emelin close by and she whispered her last words to him in this life. “Take care of yourself and the others Em.” And then walked firmly forwards lest she waver at this last moment. She missed any last words from the youngest of the captains, but she heard him snap the skull salute, fist raised high.

Before her, the doors swung open, wide and inviting. 

She walked in without looking back. 


	15. The Veil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning - this one is 'different'

#  **The Veil**

The palace doors swung shut behind her and she walked forwards towards the one other person in the room, looming atop his throne.

The vast palace room spread out before her; the lack of daylight compensated by the pale glowing lanterns lit along the floor level. She walked steadily forwards, her footsteps loud of the paved floor. Past the proud griffin which stared down at her distastefully and past a dozen other great animal hunter statues, past them all until she stood at the foot of the steps that led up to the throne on which Zenos yae Galvus sat. Towering over them all.

The prince reclined on the throne in his customary armour minus the helmet, the tri-scabbard within easy reach. His expression was neutral, betraying no hint of what the heir to the Empire was thinking. Head resting thoughtfully on one armoured hand, casual and yet like a coiled spring waiting to strike.

She immediately knelt on one knee and looked down at the floor, cursing the shiver that ran through her body as her knee contacted the cold, hard floor. “Fordola rem Lupis, commander of the Crani Lupi, reporting as ordered.” At least her voice did not shake and betray her.

There was a silence, she kept her eyes down, aware of the prince’s eyes boring down on her, then, “...Why do you tremble so?” The prince’s words were flat, but she detected the hint of curiosity, as if he genuinely did not understand why she should tremble in rage, and sorrow at her position and those of her Crani Lupi. Zenos continued, his voice strangely soft, “Could it be that the Empire’s Butcher is afraid? That she who walks with death is terrified of her own?”

Fordola felt a surge of shame and her cheeks grew hot. She looked down at her own arm resting on her knee and felt her fist clench as she spoke at the floor slowly, drawing the words out. “I am terrified of dying having achieved naught.” She paused, and then continued, calmer, more sure of her words. “Gladly would I give me life to win a great victory on the battlefield, had I but the strength.” The champion of Eorzea sprang into her mind, taunting her with the surplus of strength she had in contrast, the comparison Fordola’s mind made was unwelcome, unwanted.

“Alas, you do not.” The prince’s tone was final on this, a hint of disappointment now there. “Indeed you are weak.” He drawled the words out, savoured them with some relish.

Fordola remained where she was, kneeling, looking down as the prince continued steadily from his throne. “And born of this weakness is a blind fervor. A raging inferno which threatens to consume not only you, but everyone around you.”

“Yes my lord.” She whispered; it was true.

She heard the sound of his armour moving, as the prince slowly stood. She kept her eyes facing down. Should she look up to face the blade that would come striking down? Ir should she keep her eyes down, lest fear show in her face and sully her further.

“You were defeated by the Resistance on several occasions. You misjudged the Ananta and spurred them into summoning an eikon. Have you anything to say?” He asked.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes as she said the words that condemned her. “I do not, my lord. My failures are my own.” She thought of her father, Ainsfrid, Hrudolf, Emelin...Mari. “I am prepared to accept your judgement.”

She heard the sound of his footsteps draw close, involuntarily she opened her eyes and saw his shadow fall over her as he stood close at hand, then…

“And that is very admirable. However, I’ve had enough of this dumb show.” What? “Give voice to that hunger I see in your eyes, or I will pluck them from your head.” A cold armoured glove closed around her chin as the prince reached down and pulled her firmly to look him in his eyes.

She could smell his scent, his eyes stared at her, his expression level, piercing, but again the shadow of something deep within she couldn't place...but she knew he was waiting for something from her…

For a moment they remained in this position, the prince with his hand pulling her face up to meet his eyes, she still knelt on the ground, eyes locked on him. “I...I want…” She searched her mind, what did she want?

Then the Eorzean woman sprung to mind, the snakes, the Ala Mhigans...the ones that had stoned her father to death. Cold fire blossomed in her throat even as the prince's grip tightened. “I want to make them pay!” She shouted suddenly, violently.

The grip on her throat lessened as the words flowed in a spiel of rage. “All of them! Everyone who ever mocked or looked down on me - I want the power to make them pay!”

Something in the eyes of Prince Zenos changed, a hint of a smile blossomed on his thick lips. “...Hm. Very well.” He breathed and released his grip, standing back up to tower over her, the white flag of Garlemald atop the throne of Ala Mhigo framing Fordola’s view as she looked up at him, a vision of power and rabid hunger.

“Then I shall give you a chance.” His smile did not waver. “A chance to transcend your mortal limits. Assuming, that is, you are prepared to wager your life for such power.”

“Transcend, my lord…?” She asked, careful to keep the hunger out of her voice. She did not understand what he meant, but… “I came here prepared to die. Tell me what I must do.”

The prince’s smile widened, and he held up his right hand and Fordola watched as a figure emerged from where he had been hidden behind the throne. Garlean without a doubt, slender and dressed in pure white robes of thick, expensive fabric, black gloves and breeches matching his ensemble. Dark, wire-rimmed glasses sat astride his benign face that looked not much older than Fordola was herself.

“This is Aulus mal Asina.” Zenos continued as the man stepped forwards. “He has been updating me on a number of breakthroughs he has recently made at Castrum Abania...he will carry out a procedure to help you transcend your limits. If successful...you will have the strength you desire.”

He turned to the Aulus, the other man watching Fordola with unbridled eagerness “Can you begin at once with your facilities here in the city?” The prince asked.

“Yes my lord.” Aulus nodded, his voice smooth and honeyed, like butter. “I have every faith we will be successful this time.”

“Very well.” Zenos turned and looked down at Fordola, still kneeling. “Rise Butcher, go with Lord Aulus, I will visit you later...if you are successful.”

She rose, in a daze. Feeling blood flow through her limbs again. She did not trust herself to say anything, her head was buzzing. Aulus had turned, and was walking back towards a small door, hidden in the shadows along the wall behind the throne.

Lord Zenos gestured one last time and she strode forwards, dazed as Aulus opened the door to steps which descended into flickering shadows. He motioned for her to lead and she strode through, without hesitation.

\---

“This Lord Aulus is of particular interest to us.” Alphinaud leaned forwards, a fire in the youths eyes. “Although he was slain in the taking of Ala Mhigo, his twisted research into the soul, aether and the Garlean genome may continue. Did he talk much of our friend, the Warrior of Light?”

He indicated the Warrior, Sara, who still sat quietly off to one side and Fordola resisted looking, continuing to face forwards. “Aye, he mentioned her in passing.”

“The experiments ran by this so-called scientist left hundreds of innocents maimed or dead.” Lyse slapped the table, her eyes flaring. “We found the bodies in Castrum Abania, those that survived had been…turned into mindless monsters, you allowed this man to experiment on you?”

“Gladly I did.” Fordola nodded, ignoring the intake of breath from behind her in the galleries. “I did not know this Aulus mal Asina, all I knew was that Zenos was giving me a chance to attain power at the risk of my own life. Considering I had walked in expecting death, I was going to take any opportunity to prove my use to him at that time.”

“Do you regret the choice you made?” Admiral Merlwyb asked, she looked curious and Fordola hesitated. 

_Flicker, a coiling sea serpent screamed defiance as a thunderous wave rolled towards the ship._

Fordola winced, and leaned heavily on the dias as she swayed for a moment. She thought her Echo seemed to have calmed, the visions no longer as insistent as they had been at the start of the day, mayhaps she was wrong. She pulled herself straight and looked the admiral in the eye.

“I was already a monster by that point, I did what I did willingly.” Fordola kept her head high.

Again the murmur from the crowd behind. Merlwyb leaned back, an appraising look (surely not a glimmer of respect) on her face as Alphinaud gestured for Fordola to continue.

“Tell us of your conversations with him.” He asked. “Leave nothing out, spare no detail.”

\---

The steps went down and down, deep into the rock beneath the palace of Ala Mhigo.

Several times the steps ended on a small corridor that often had a few other doors leading off on either side. She would wait until Lord Aulus had glided down the steps to join her and he would indicate the proper direction to take. More stairs heading always down, the corridors grew colder and darker until finally, they reached their destination.

It was a cavernous room cut into the rock of a similar width to the palace room, with tall, roughly carved columns on either side. The ceiling was shrouded in darkness far above with candles on plinths provided some meagre, flickering light. Fordola’s gaze was drawn towards the back of the chamber, where an eerie blue and red glow could be seen atop and around a massive, shadowy apparatus many fulms high. There was a low, humming noise of Garlean machinery coming from all around.

“Welcome to my humble research facility.” Aulus mal Asina’s smooth voice echoed in the vast chamber as he walked past her, turning to smile proudly. He noticed Fordola looking around and gestured widely with his arms, smiling broadly. “Not quite as grand as my facilities back in the capital, but thankfully Lord Zenos has seen fit to grace me with his patronage and support.”

Fordola was unsure what to make of that, she was a woman of battle, sun and sand – not Garlean machina. Had this huge chamber always been here, under the palace? “What work…is it you do here exactly, my lord?” She asked hesitantly, squinting again at the shadowy apparatus at the far end of the room.

“Why, we seek to unlock the very secrets of life!” Aulus made a grand gesture, excited to have a person to explain his secretive work to. “To overcome our boundaries, to unshackle our limitations, to transcend our very beings!”

“And…this is what you are going to do with me?” She asked again, hesitant. The fiery rage she had felt in the palace above had cooled as she walked. She still burned with desire, but it was tempered with caution around a man she did not know, and a promised procedure she did not understand.

“Come and sit.” Aulus gestured to a simple table around which several chairs were drawn against the wall. “I will prepare you something to drink.”

Fordola moved, feeling a shiver run through her spine. This chamber was cooler than it had any right to be – was there some sort of Garlean artificial cooling installed in this room? She sat down, and waited, shivering, as Aulus busied himself at a far table. He appeared to be…mixing something?

A few moments later he drew close holding a notepad and smiling benignly, proffering a cup of steaming, dark grey liquid. She involuntarily sniffed it and nearly gagged at the stench, Lord Aulus’s smile growing wider as his eyes blinked innocently. “First, you must drink this, it is part of the procedure which I will then explain to you.”

She took the cup slowly…one last chance to back out. She looked at the liquid and again the thought of the enemy champion, her matchless strength, flashed through her brain and she gritted her teeth - before downing the thick liquid in one gulp.

She gagged but thankfully did not throw the liquid back up as it coiled down through her throat. Lord Aulus tutted in satisfaction and moved to sit on the chair next to her, leaning forward conspiratorially as with his right hand he produced a small machina device a little larger than his hand. “Hold out your right arm.” He instructed.

She did so and he pressed the cold device to her hand and ran it up her bare arm to her shoulder, pulled it away and looked at the device thoughtfully. “Hmm, 4.2…interesting.” He scribbled on the notepad and looked back at Fordola who was massaging her throat as the liquid still felt like it was slithering down.

“4.2?” She repeated, as the scientist continued to scribble notes, having tucked the device back in a large chest pocket. “Is that…good?”

“It is to be expected for a native of this land” Aulus did not look up from his writings. “Were you to do a reading on me, you would find a score of 0.3, a very standard mark for a pureblood of Garlemald.”

“And that mark is…?” She tried and Aulus looked up at her, smile still there, eyes bright with excitement.

“Tis a crude way to measure a person’s connection to aether, the very quintessence of spirit that allows a person to wield magicks, sense life, project one’s spirit and a multitude of other factors.” Aulus returned to his paperwork, scribing even as he talked rapidly at Fordola. “We Garleans lack the hereditary traits required for the reliable manipulation of aether, therefore we score below a 1, shall we say. A non-Garlean will see a mark between 1 – 10, with a higher number indicating a greater affinity for magicks and the arcane arts.”’

He finished his scribing (the writing not the slightest bit legible to Fordola) and looked up at her, raising an eyebrow. “Those that use magicks and practice the arcane arts will steadily improve their aetheric connection, think of it like exercising a muscle, except in this case, the muscle is somewhere within a person’s neocortex.” He tapped his head and Fordola felt her stomach twinge suddenly, ignoring it. “Everyone has some level of aetheric connection, even Garleans are not immune from this. It's that voice whispering in your ear which direction to take, it guides the hand that reads a palms future, a sixth sense that warns you when danger is near, and thousands of other, tiny small things that make up a person's sense of self, of being.”

“So…how are you going to help me…transcend my limits?” She asked, curious but not really following the scientist’s passion.

“My lifework is to modify and enhance subjects to boost their aetheric connection.” Aulus now gestured to the wider chamber. “You remember the scion prisoner you took? The lalafell?” She nodded and he beamed widely. “Such a marvellous subject that one. She scored a mark of 56.3, one of the highest I’ve seen, instrumental in some recent breakthroughs with subject XXIV being my finest yet!”

“And, how will increasing my aetheric connection help me?” She asked, feeling slightly uneasy at the man’s rambling, she had forgotten the cold. “Do you propose to mould me into some sort of black mage?”

“Oh, good heavens no.” Aulus chucked at that. “With the research on the Scion, we can not only increase your aetheric connection – but also grant you a power unlike any others – the Eorzean’s sometimes refer to this as the Echo. Your enemy, the champion of the savages, called the Warrior of Light, has this ability naturally (or supernaturally, I don’t really know) and uses it to great effect. Ah…what I would give to have her as my precious test subject.”

“The Warrior of Light…” Fordola murmured to herself, as Aulus made an extravagant clapping noise and Fordola noticed several white-clothed attendants suddenly appear from behind her, she had not noticed them approaching.

“Prepare the apparatus.” Aulus spoke to one of the attendants as they approached. “Subject XXV, 4.6, let’s try aligning to worldline 0.456903α again and…cycle 13 times, add the infused Aulus-Aquila particles to the array.”

The men retreated as Fordola struck the table with one hand. “What can you tell me about the Eorzean woman, this Warrior of Light!? I must defeat her for Lord Zenos…and myself.”

Aulus looked smug suddenly, and sat back down, crossing his legs and relaxing casually. “She…is the culmination of what I hope to achieve with my work. A high aetheric alignment that allows her to master and wield every magick known to current masters. Why, witnesses have seen her weave garments and weapons out of the thin air itself, once a tall lance, then suddenly a staff of high magicks, but it is her Echo that gives her the true power.”

“The Echo?” Fordola repeated, feeling her stomach twinge a second time, more painfully.

“We can only speculate as to what it is exactly.” Aulus waggled his finger at her. “It appears to give her a certain level of clairvoyance, she can see where attacks will land, sense an enemy’s strength, resist a primal’s influence and even, if some witnesses are believed, see into a person’s past.”

Fordola took this all in, crossing her arms thoughtfully, also trying to hide the cramp that seemed to be spreading through her body.

“The Warrior of Light is a puzzle, an enigma.” Aulus continued, looking past Fordola’s shoulder now. “Does she have this Echo naturally? Or was it granted to her by some, unknown supernatural entity, a primal itself? A god? Who can say…but I digress.” At that, Aulus clapped his hands together and focussed on Fordola again. “Enough time should have passed for the serum to work its way through your body. I will need you to change into something less restrictive and more conductive. We have prepared garments for you behind that curtain.” He pointed to a corner of the room, where a barber’s curtain partitioned off a small corner of the chamber. “Please dress and then make your way to down to the end of the chamber, follow the blue light – I will be waiting for you there and tell you the rest.”

Fordola grasped all the misgivings in her head, picked them up and put them to one side mentally as she stood, wincing with the movement, before padding over to the curtain. Grasping the flimsy material, she pulled it aside and stepped in, closing the curtain behind her.

On a small table were some black undergarments. She picked up the scant, rubbery material and mentally shrugged. She carefully unbuckled her gunblade and lent it against the wall before peeling off her leather jerkin, boots and smallclothes, tossing them aside.

Now, fully naked she stretched for a moment, noticing moisture fog in the air as she breathed out heavily. Strange, the cold sensation seemed to have reduced to nothing, likewise the cramp in her stomach seemed to be receding.

She slowly put on the clothes left for her, a process that did not take long. The bottoms were a small pair of black shorts that hugged her body very tightly, the top half of the material hardly preserved her modesty, numerous black straps held it together on her shoulders and across her back. Leaving most of her chest, arms and legs completely bare. If Ainsfrid had thought her ball dress revealing, he would have boggled to see her now.

She was too proud to be prudish, and she put on the simple sandals left for her, grasped the gunblade in her free arm, and drew back the curtain.

Seeing nobody waiting for her, she began padding down the dark chamber. The structure at the end starting to come into view, the hum now somewhat louder.

The giant apparatus was akin to a large table on three massive, iron legs with wide steps leading up to the top where a large machina ‘device’ of some sort was suspended by an arm connected to the side of the ‘table’.

Running around the ‘legs’ of this apparatus, were numerous…well they looked like Hyur sized metal coffins. They were also stacked vertically around the apparatus, light strips pulsing red, small window slits at the top of each chamber.

She reached the base of the stairs and peered into the nearest red light. Through the slit she let out a low gasp; within it the captive lalafell Scion, Krile, could be seen. Eyes closed as if in a deep slumber…or dead.

Clearing her head and remembering that this was a sworn enemy of her lord, she made her way up the iron stairs to the top of the apparatus. Aulus waited there, behind him, at the centre of the table was a huge iron operating table. Along the far side of the raised dais, were numerous consoles replete with glowing lights and buttons by which stood three other expectant attendants.

“Ah excellent, excellent.” Aulus gestured to the operating table. “Remove your sandals and lie down. I will walk you through the process.”

She made her way forwards, pleased the scientist had kept not let his eyes stray in this revealing getup. She reluctantly rested the gunblade against the central table before pulling herself up and onto the table before lying down, ignoring the rough discomfort. Aulus meanwhile, was gesturing at the other attendants who were fiddling with complicated dials and buttons on various consoles.

A few moments passed as the low humming subtly changed in pitch. His motions finished, his men at work, Aulus moved closer, gazing down to Fordola like a benevolent father.

“What now?” She rasped at him, her throat feeling dry and unresponsive.

“We will do two things.” Aulus raised a finger. “First, we will run powerful currents through the table into your neocortex, while releasing an abundance of aether from other ‘guests’ in this room. I regret to say the pain will be quite significant and I must ask that you remain lying down, an element of the paralysing potion you consumed will help there. Breaking the connection with the table will result in permanent brain damage, and most likely death.”’

Fordola clenched her fists, mentally preparing herself. “And, this will grant me tremendous aetheric power?”

“Precisely.” Aulus nodded, raising a second finger. “However, that in itself would just make you ‘hypercharged’ and achieve little besides robbing you on your free will. What we will also do, is imbue you with the Echo. This will help you control the aether abundance, give you free will and grant you the ability to see enemy attacks before they happen, gaze into the heart and memories of your prisoners, and many more things we can only speculate at!” He was getting excited now.

“Is more pain involved?” She asked, the words hardly coming out now her throat felt so tight.

“Of a sorts.” Aulus beamed proudly. “Providing you do not move during the first stage; you will ultimately lose consciousness. We would render you unconscious beforehand, but this has proved to have most...unfortunate side effects. Now...how best to explain the process of imbuing you with the Echo...hmmm.” He pursed his lips for a moment, as in the background the hum grew greater, as if a great energy source was being charged somewhere.

“Let’s see…” Aulus then snapped a finger and looked back down at her. “Ah yes. Sharlayan scholars have theories that there are a multitude of realities, endless in nature where everything that ever has happened, or will happen, overlaps. Somewhere there could be a reality where our positions are reversed, for example. I could be on this operating table and you, well, a person like you is explaining this same process. All these realities ripple over each other, ever so slightly out of alignment, like individual drops of water, my theory…” He coughed loudly at that and bent in closer, conspiratorially to Fordola’s cheek. “Is that this echo, allows one to catch glimpse of other, closely aligned realities, visions of the past, warnings of the future, maybe even, different versions of oneself!”

He bent up again and looked over to the other men who had finished whatever preparations had been made. He gave a nod and Fordola turned her neck a little to see buttons being pressed and the huge machina that had been standing parallel to this upraised area, began to bend in closer, leaning over. It was a mass of wires, blinking lights, nozzles and at the heart of it all, a bright, blinking blue light larger than her face. It came closer and closer to her head until it filled her vision.

“After the pain, you will slip into unconsciousness.” Aulus was continuing. “From our recent success with test subject XXIV, we have an understanding of what comes next. We will use a burst of energy to extract your very soul and cycle you through these other realities, twelve times. Think of it like weaving a knot back and forth, should we be successful, you will gain a sort of clairvoyance, access to other realities and powers.”

He leaned in again, but Fordola could hardly make him out with the massive blue machina filling her vision. “We will start you out on worldline 0.456903α, we have no idea if this reality is anything like our own, but the last test subject survived this cycle compared to others, which must be a good thing. Now, you must not lose yourself in this reality, keep your mind in the present – try to think on things which ground you in this worldline. The first will be hardest, but the machine will read your thoughts and impulses and future cycles _should_ be closer to this reality. Do you understand? I have seen too many experiments wasted on the first cycle; realities so incomprehensible that it overwhelms our understanding of reality.”

“I... really don’t think I get it.” She managed to force the words out, her body was hardly moving at all now.

“Well, this is all just my theories.” Aulus chuckled standing up again, she could hardly make out his shape now, somewhere the droning hum was reaching new heights. “It may all be nonsense, but the power you can attain is real...now, let us begin.”

The hum reached a piercing intensity and Fordola felt her skin prickle to gooseflesh and a moment later pain, terrible pain lanced through her entire body.

She had never felt anything like it, it was indescribable, all-encompassing, needling pain in every facet of her body. She could not scream out for her jaw was locked, if she could have moved, she probably would have curled into a ball, but her body was unresponsive and she remained lying flat. She could not even shut her eyes, her vision was only that of the piercing blue light that became every part of her being.

How long this ordeal lasted, she could not tell. It felt as if her brain was being split apart, no, it felt like her limbs were being ripped apart on every level, no, it was a thousand needles digging into every facet of her body, in, out, in, out, in, out. Pulling apart her very being.

She endured for what felt like hours of this, the blue light, the ringing hum, the pain, the terrible pain was all she knew. Was it hours, was in minutes? She didn't know, there was no time, there was only the light, the noise, the pain.

Suddenly, the humming noise changed in pitch again, going higher and higher. What little remained of her sense of self through the pain saw an arc of electricity somewhere behind the blue light, there was another...and then blinding oblivion.

\---

_Flicker_

** 0.456903α **

_There was no pain (there was only pain)._

_There was no noise (the hum was everywhere)._

_There was only a white (blue) light , a haze, were they clouds (fog?) drifting around her._

_She was standing in place and looked down - she was dressed in her customary leather gear, the gear she had spent most of her adult life in. Her Ala Mhigan curved blade rested in its scabbard at her side, a reassuring weight and sight._

_She looked up and around. She appeared to be on some sort of black, artificial surface that stretched out before her, with a slash of white running down the middle between her feet. She could hardly see anything, the white fog (clouds?) obscuring anything more than a few arms length away from her._

_‘Hello?’ she spoke aloud, testing the sound of her own voice. The words sounded distant, distorted and wavy. The mist churned around her and then rolled back, slowly away from her. Despite this, the blue (white) haze darkened slightly._

_Great buildings of metal and glass appeared on both sides, towering over her to the pale sky. They were like nothing she had ever seen before, as tall as the tallest spire of Ala Mhigo. She also noticed strange red lights now glowing along the strip before her, blinking steadily at her. An eerie hum (silence) compounded her discomfort._

_She took a step forwards, and another, off the strange white line down the middle of the black surface, towards one of the great metal buildings that reared up to the sky._

_Another step, one more, again._

_Along the building's base was a line of strange glass windows which offered no reflections and to one side was an entrance that led into the building. She tried to look in, but it appeared to be shrouded in darkness._

_Curious she turned back the way she had come, and saw the fog had followed her. The buildings on the other side, the white line in the center of the road was gone, she could only see a few paces back the way she had come. Only the red blinking lights remained, pulsing through the white mists._

_She turned away from this uneasy sight and slowly walked through the open doorway, into the base of the monstrous tower._

_It was dark, but she could see columns of iron reaching up to the ceiling above on all sides. There was a dim whitish light glowing from somewhere that filled the building. She couldn't think why it had seemed so dark from outside. Over the strange silence (hum) a dripping noise, a splash of something could be heard. It was the first distinctive noise she could recall and seemed to be coming from further within..._

_She moved forwards, half of free will, half because she felt compelled to move forwards, past the numerous iron columns, deeper into the building. A quick glance behind her showed that the entrance door had now vanished in the mists that stalked after her._

_Drip, drip, drip…_

_It was getting louder, she had an overwhelming premonition that it was the dripping of blood._

_She rounded a column and saw a shadowy shape in the distance, slumped on the floor._

_She moved closer, carefully pulling forth her blade from its scabbard, forcing her sense of self into the weapon. She was Fordola rem Lupis! Leader of the Crani Lupi! She was not afraid of strange visions or nightmares. Or whatever this was..._

_The shape was closer...a figure, a woman (a phantom?) with long, dark red hair, face down on the floor. Crimson blood was smeared all around her, a macabre scene of murder. Something in Fordola made her inch a bit closer to the body, curious. Something compelled her to touch one splayed leg with the flat of her blade, was this person truly dead?_

_The head turned 90 degrees to look at her, white vacant eyes in a pale, dead face. ‘Go back.’ The lips did not move, the voice was neither female nor male, but a discordance that caused Fordola to drop her sword to the ground and clutch her ears even as the words continued. ‘Go back, go back, GO BACK!’ The last words were almost intelligible, a crackle of static and gibberish._

_She stumbled away from the body, ignoring her sword, backing away and fell through the mists that had followed her.She was suddenly enveloped within its faint blue light and could hardly see her hand in front of her._

_The noise stopped, her sense of self drifted, she slumped - a part of her knew that should her soul drift - it would drift forever on the currents of time, lost forever._

_She tried to focus, what drove her, what kept her._

_Was it acceptance? Respect? Love? Power?_

_  
_ _  
_ _She tried to think, feeling the threads unravelling, she tried to picture something that tied her to home...Ala Mhigo? It inspired apathy. The Crani Lupi? It inspired regret. The Warrior of Light?_

_Her face appeared before her, the vision sneered at her, and Fordola felt a surge of raw anger, it flowed through her like a hot liquid, from her stomach all the way up to her head and it_

_Flicker_

** 3.152947α **

_Fordola was sitting in a moving caravan, trundling along a forest path between pale clouds through which trees could just about be glimpsed on either side, a familiar scent (Chocobos?) was in the air._

_‘Oy!’ A man's voice turned her head, a figure was leaning towards her. A man dressed in yellow with a dark skin, and twinkling eyes. ‘You were moanin’ in your sleep an’ sweatin’ buckets besides.’_

_She reached for her sword, but it was no longer there. She looked around, the caravan was otherwise empty except for her and this figure (driver?) who cocked his head in surprise and then there was wrenching CRACK and the figure_

_Flicker_

** 3.152839α **

_She was still in the same moving caravan, but there were two white haired twins sitting across from her now, dozing, eyes closed._

_‘As for your good self, judgin’ by your unusual garments.’ It was the same yellow dressed man leaning forwards, speaking as if nothing had happened. ‘I’d say you were one of them new adventurers. AM i WARm?” The words seemed to rip and tear, the sex of the voice juddering in Fordola’s ears, she involuntarily grabbed her ears as the man’s face seemed to melt and the sleeping twins opened socketless eyes to reveal a_

_Flicker_

** 3.162325γ **

_Same moving caravan, the dozing twins with white hair still slumbered across from her. The caravan driver still sat to her right, gazing forwards, out into the mists from which the trees could just about be seen. But there was a different presence next to her._

_Fordola turned left slowly, knowing what she would see._

_A woman sat there, short red hair, plain Gridanian garb, her eyes were bright blue and she wore no weapon and seemed to not notice Fordola._

_‘You…’ Fordola gasped, looking on his enemy who was gazing at the dozing figures sitting opposite her._

_‘...A skirmish has broken out up ahead with the Ixal!’ A distant voice was shouting urgently, further ahead, a male voice. ‘For your own safety, you must remain here until-’_

_There was a sound, a rustling of distant dead leaves floating on the windless air. Next to Fordola the Eorzean hero looked around, concern creasing her perfect face. The white haired twins remained sleeping._

_‘Bloody hells!’ The male voice again, the voice sounding panicky, ‘We shall hold them here! Try to break clear!’_

_The sound of rustling increased, and then suddenly a black flecked arrow came out of the fog to strike the caravan and stick in the wood. Fordola leapt to her feet as the caravan rocked forwards, the twins continued to doze opposite her and suddenly more arrows were flying at them from the treeline._

_Fordola watched them thud into the caravan as the driver lashed the chocobos at the front to speed. Suddenly an arrow flecked past her left...and buried deep into the hero's throat._

_She didn't make a sound, a slight gurgle maybe, as pure crimson lifeblood flowing out as Fordola felt revulsion (not satisfaction?) as more arrows struck the caravan and one of the twins opposite and then all hells_

_Flicker_

**2.749272α**

_Again, the same hazy mist (no, it was cloud) surrounded her._

_She was on a battlement of some sort, below a sea of miasma roiled and boiled. Somewhere she could hear a sonorous man’s voice talking…_

_‘And tear down the very pillars of our society - our history, our values - everything we have built over a thousand years?’ There was the sound of an exacerbated, deep sigh, ‘A fool to the last.’_

_Fordola scanned around herself, searching for the voice. There! Through a break in the fog she could see a white robed man looking away from herself, gazing into the fogs…_

_Then she could hear footsteps running, a blue haired, armoured Elzeen crashed into view, at his side ran the Warrior of Light, a broadsword at her side, red hair flowing behind her, a vision of power. Both charging at the white robed man who had been talking._

_Suddenly there was a blinding flash of light, a beam of pure energy flicked out at the Warrior from above, ‘Look out!’ shouted the Elzeen, pulling a shield and charging for the energy beam._

_He was a fraction too slow._

_The beam of light ripped into the Warriors abdomen and bathed her in an ethereal light. Fordola watched, as the Warrior fell slowly to the ground, the mists swallowing up the other figures and rolling towards Fordola as a tidal wave of_ _  
_

_Flicker_

**1.111218ϑ **

_Fordola hardly had time to take in the view this time, above golden, rolling light (corruption) filled the sky._

_The Warrior of Light stood before her, surrounded by strange, glowing white demons on four legs that flicked left and right as the Warrior slowly turned, a tall lance of glistening obsidian warding off the creatures._

_  
_ _  
_ _Fordola noticed with a start that she could see a dark haze surrounding the Warrior, a darkness that swished around her. Energy? Aether? A soul?_

_As the Warrior turned slowly, her vision passed over Fordola and she paused, her brow creased and she blinked, staring forwards. Her lips moved hesitantly, ‘Fordola?’_

_Around her, the creatures suddenly leapt, teeth bared for the Warriors throat as she reached out a hand towards Fordola’s spectral (solid?) self, and just before the jaws closed around the Warriors throat her lips moved to shout_

_Flicker_

**1.899261α**

_The same golden light filled the sky, Fordola was standing beside the Warrior of Light, and she realised suddenly that her hand was grasped in the other’s soft, warm hand. They were looking off a sheer cliff, only the fog lay before them._

_Fordola immediately pulled her hand away from the other woman's hand and stumbled back a few steps, hand fumbling at her belt for a sword that wasn't there._

_The Warrior of Light turned, her face lit by the golden clouds above, framed by the white miasma behind her. Her brow creased with concern and she stepped forwards, a gunblade of some strange type rested at side. ‘Fordola, we’ve come so far together, tell me what's wrong?’ Her voice was warm, full of concern and Fordola shook her head in confusion._

_There was something so inviting about hearing warmth and emotion in this strange reality, her rage felt dull and dormant deep within her. “Get away!” She half shouted, raising a hand to push back the Warrior, but the other woman caught it easily, holding it in a strong grip and leaning forwards._

_Fordola felt a wave of nausea seize her as the other woman’s face came closer and closer, worry dancing on her eyes. “Fordola, what's gotten into you, have you forgotten why we are HeRE?’_

_Her voice wavered into discordance and Fordola was paralyzed in the moment as the other woman lent in, her lips brushed Fordola’s who fought powerlessly in the embrace._

_So soft, something distant, thudded in her heart._

_‘Go bAcK’ a voice whispered in her ear and Fordola broke the moment, pushed back, away from the startled face of the Warrior and she was falling over the cliff age, falling, falling and_

_Flicker_

**6.090551γ**

_‘Fordola, Fordola!’ The shout echoed through her head which throbbed like a drum._

_She was standing in some sort of...banquet hall? A gilded table piled with wine and foods, guests milled around it. She couldn't see the banquet hall walls, the fog closed around her, it didn't want her - she did not belong here._

_‘Fordola, I need your head in the game!’ The deep male voice again, she recognised it and turned to see...Raubahn Aldynn, the general, her judge, staring intently into her face._

_‘Raubahn?’ She cocked her head in surprise, standing still. He was...younger, and she noticed, had both hands unlike the Raubahn from Ala Mhigo that had one stump of an arm, cut off in some previous battle._

_‘Who else?’ The man snorted, his eyes were intense. ‘Fordola, if they try to take me captive, you’ll lead the Brass Blades understood!?’_

_‘I…’ She didn't have a chance to finish that sentence, a deep male voice drew Raubahn’s attention and she turned…_

_‘This man stands accused of poisoning Her Royal Majesty Nanamo Ul Namo.’ It was a tall, proud man dressed in military blue and flanked by others of a similar bearing, he was standing over someone… ‘And as suspected accessories to the crime, all members of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn will be detained for questioning!’_

_It...it was the Warrior of Light, chained and hobbled on the floor...she recognised the face as if through a clouded mirror, but the face was masculine, and she thought she could make out a pair of Miqo'te ears beneath a tatty archers hat...it was the same person, just...different._

_‘This is madness!’ a nearby woman shouted and then suddenly there was shouting, cursing and the whole_

_Flicker_

** 6.091551γ **

_The banquet hall ‘shifted’, almost all the people remained unchanged but the Warrior of Light was now a tiny Lalafell, dressed in the silver armour of a Paladin._

_‘Hold your tongue, witch! I’ll not be ensorcelled!’ A female Lalafell was pointing angrily at a tall, slender woman with her arms spread wide. ‘I know all about the dark gift that you and your disciples wield! Oh yes...I’ve observed how you worked upon the minds of the Alliance leaders, bending them to your will!’_

_‘Fordola!” Raubahn whispered in her ear. ‘I’m going to get the Queen, you need to look after our friends, they’re too important to the world to be lost to this madness.’_

_She remained mute on the spot as the Warrior of Light on the ground turned and looked directly at her, his eyes wide and imploring before the words came_

_Flicker_

**6.292651γ**

_The scene ‘shifted’, everything moved so fast Fordola felt a surge of motion sickness, the grey mists had rolled closer towards her._

_Raubahn was standing over the body of the Lalafell who had been talking, both blades in each hand. The Warrior of Light, a tall female Elzeen, was still chained on the ground next to her guards._

_‘YOU!’ Raubahn bellowed, turning to point somewhere beyond the mists. ‘You’re next, you scheming bastard!’_

_Roaring he leapt at a shadow in the distance, disappearing into the fog. There was a thunderclap and his body was thrown back and Fordola stared as Raubahn’s dismembered head rolled slowly back towards her across the banquet hall's floor._

_The tall, blue dressed man of before emerged out of the haze, a broadsword grasped in his hand. He pointed it directly at Fordola menacingly ‘Do you care to follow your captain, Wolf?’_

_She fumbled at her belt, but her sword still wasn't here and the man was approaching her, raising his sword high and the Warrior of Light on the ground was screaming something at her, ‘Go BACK!’ and Fordola tried to move but her limbs were slow and the blade came crashing down towards_

_Flicker_

**6.292651γ**

_She stood in the throne room of Ala Mhigo, this much was obvious even in her dazed state._

_Lord Zenos stood before her, sword out, a look of deep disappointment on his face._

_The Warrior of Light lay crumpled at his feet, beaten and laid low._

_‘I had such high expectations of you...’ He said to the fallen champion, slowly raising his sword. ‘When I have killed you - I will slay your friends, hunt down your allies, and destroy the Eorzean alliance with my bare hands.’_

_He held the blade up and smiled at Fordola. ‘You did well Butcher, I am proud of you, together we will break the siege and you will rule as Viceroy of Ala Mhigo.’_

_The blade came sweeping down, unstoppable and_

_Flicker_

**6.292652α**

_She stood in the throne room of Ala Mhigo, this much was obvious, even in her dazed state._ _  
_

_Lord Zenos stood before her, sword out, a look of deep disappointment on his face._

_The Warrior of Light stood at his side facing Fordola, a twinned blade to Lord Zenos bared, her face a vision of beauty and power._

_‘I had such high expectations of you…’ He said to Fordola, slowly raising his sword at her. ‘When I have killed you - I will slay your friends, hunt down your allies, and destroy your Eorzean alliance with my bare hands.’_

_Fordola stumbled back and realised she stood next to Raubahn, the red woman Lyse and other people she did not recognise, all watching, weapons at the ready, facing Zenos and the Warrior of Light. The Warrior grinned, leaning closer to Zenos, her face a picture of ecstasy and whispered something into the Prince’s ear. Whatever it was, it caused Lord Zenos to grin in mirth, as the Warrior’s face moved down, her tongue flicking out and licking along Zenos’ raised blade edge before straightening, addressing Fordola and her flickering companies, the Warriors voice cruel and harsh. ‘Go BACK!’ and Fordola felt a piercing siren call of_

_Flicker_

**6.219661ϑ**

_A dark flickering room, around which figures were standing._

_‘Specula Imperatoris is doomed.’ Hrudolf was speaking rapidly to Ainsfrid, the two men clustered around a dimly lit table. Neither seemed to notice Fordola standing beside them, in a tiny room around a table on which lay some sort of map. ‘Emelin is trying to hold the stairs but the Eorzeans have control of the walls and inner barrack_ _s, the last of the Crani Lupi have fallen back to this tower.’_

_A crash of thunder was heard nearby and the room shook, cracks of misty white light seeped through the walls coming closer._

_‘Damn it!’ Ainsfrid struck the table firmly and Fordola noticed the blood that was soaking through his armour in places. She tried to move, but found herself rooted to the spot. ‘If only Fordola was here, she would know what to do…’_

_‘I know…’ Hrudolf said, sadness obvious in her voice. ‘Ainsfrid...we must...surrender to the Eorzean forces.’_

_Ainsfrid looked up sharply at that, but Hrudolf remained motionless, meeting the other man's eyes fearlessly. ‘We must surrender.’ Hrudolf repeated._

_‘Fordola would roll in her grave if she heard that.’ Ainsfrid muttered, his voice low. ‘You heard her, redeem us, was what she said.’_

_‘And she told me to keep you safe.’ Hrudolf said firmly. ‘She’s gone now, killed by the Imperial prince she followed. Let our men live, they have bled enough for the cause, let me give the word.’_

_‘Aye…’ Ainsfrid said reluctantly. ‘Aye, raise the white flag, let us be free of our damnable curse.’ He ripped the yellow bandana of the Crani Lupi from his shoulders and threw it over his back and Fordola watched as the clouds swallowed her two captains up, before crashing down on her_ , _swallowing her mind, body and soul_.

_Flicker,_

_Flicker, flicker, flicker_

_Flicker, flicker, flicker, flicker, flicker, flicker, flicker, flicker_

_  
_ \---

  
“So you don’t remember much of what happened until you regained consciousness?” The seedseer was asking, lips drawn tight.

“No…” Fordola shook her head, trying to remember the events. “I lay down on the table and Aulus brought a large device close to my face. It...it shone some sort of blue light on me and there was terrible pain, and then...blackness.” She let her eyes travel around the table so the judges could see the truth on her face. “I think I dreamt...I don’t really remember. Flashes of other realities, other possibilities...but I don’t remember, mayhaps that was for the best.”

She looked at Sara, the Warrior of Light last and blinked suddenly.

A single tear was rolling down the Warriors cheek as she stared into Fordola’s eye and Fordola wandered if she had seen anything through her true gifted Echo. 

_Flicker, their lips pressed together alongside a pure white cliff overlooking endless fields of green. Far in the distance a city of gaudy spires, domes and towers filled the horizon next to a dark grey sea._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was absolutely the easiest chapter to write.
> 
> I had been slowing down a bit on writing, but I had been looking forward to writing this chapter (and the next few), not being 'too' restrained by cannon. 
> 
> The fun thing about writing fanfiction - is sometimes just having fun and cutting loose, break things, have random H and so forth, I certainly felt that in writing this one.
> 
> Something different anyway, yes that was a reference to the anime - no I've only watched the first 6 episodes, yes I should go back and watch it.
> 
> Stay safe, hope you found it interesting.


	16. The Resonant

#  **The Resonant**

The first thing she became aware of was the throbbing pain.

How distinctive it was, from that white hot, burning pain that encompassed her whole body beforehand. Now consigned to a pulsing, burning brand in her head, it was almost a blissful contrast.

She slowly cracked her eyes open, relieved to see the massive blue lit apparatus that had hung over her head withdrawn to one side; above was only the far-off darkly lit ceiling. 

“My...my head…” She groaned aloud, and she heard the sound of armoured footsteps turning around near her. A voice - the voice of Lord Zenos saying something, but it seemed too far away for her to hear properly. 

Slowly, oh so slowly, she inched her head up to look. Down her scantily clad body that still rested on the operating table, to where Prince Zenos stood, one hand resting on the edge of the table.

“She lives. Impressive...or merely lucky. That too may prove a useful trait.” His voice seemed throaty and far-off. Was he speaking to her or himself? She slowly pushed herself up, her body sluggish and unresponsive - as if weighed down with lead, but she managed to sit up, wincing with the effort.

“My lord...what have you done to me..?” She managed, flashes of what Aulus had said beforehand, flashing through her head - oh and the pain...that terrible pain. There was something else too...something that hid behind a veil of memories that already were fading from her brain like a lost dream. There had been a clifftop, clouds...the Warrior of Light.

Zenos had turned to look at the other side of the table and Fordola now slowly glanced to see Lord Aulus standing there. The scientist looked pleased but his infectious smile from earlier had been replaced with a more neutral expression. “Though we Garleans are intellectually and physiologically superior in almost all respects.” The scientist gestured to Lord Zenos at that. “We lack the hereditary traits required for the reliable manipulation of aether - hence our unique inability to wield magicks.” 

Fordola nodded, some of his words sounded familiar, she had been told this, Aulus was still talking dispassionately, partly to her, partly to the prince. “This deficiency, for want of a better word, saw us subjected to decades of oppression by the lesser races, and we were eventually driven to seek shelter in the cold northern reaches of Ilsabard. Fortunately, said region was replete with vast deposits of ceruleum, which proved instrumental in the development of magitek: a revolutionary technology conceived to compensate for our disadvantage.”

The scientist paused dramatically, but again Fordola found herself not really taking in his words, Gods her head hurt. “It was with magitek that we grew strong - that our nation became an empire. Yet ultimately, this was an extrinsic solution to an intrinsic problem. What I wanted was not a crude device to be used in lieu of magic. Through modification of the Garlean genome, I argued that it might be possible to enhance a subject’s ability to manipulate aether, effectively empowering them to wield magicks. Alas my theories were met with consternation in the Imperial court. Only Lord Zenos, with commendable foresight and wisdom, deigned to support my research.”

Yes...it was coming back to her. Could she see souls now? Could she wield aether? Did she have this mysterious ‘Echo’? Fordola tried squinting at Lord Aulus; he looked no different to her. 

She voiced her thoughts hesitantly. “...You gave me this treatment?” She cursed her words, of course he had, she remembered all too well and quickly added “But I’m not Garlean.” 

Now that sounded petulant, but the thought gnawed at her. Was she nothing more than a test subject? Or was she more, and to who?

“Ala Mhigan, through and through.” Lord Zenos chuckled, a touch of mirth, of hunger in his voice. “What you have been granted is far greater than mere magic. Before that lesser light, it is as a second sun.” He said the last seriously, the touch of mirth drained from his voice.

“I am informed that Ala Ghiri was recently occupied by the Resistance, and that an attack on Specula Imperatoris is considered imminent.” Lord Aulus directed his words to Zenos, not even looking at Fordola. “This could provide an ideal opportunity to test her performance in the field.”

“Your...Skulls was it?” Zenos yae Galvus looked over at Fordola. “They have joined the garrison at the watchtower?”

  
  
“...Yes, my lord.” She replied, flexing her arms behind her back as she tried to massage them back to life. “By your leave, I would rendezvous with them, and lead a counterattack against the insurgents.”

“No.” Zenos spoke the words flatly and finally. “Even were you to leave now, you would not arrive in time. There is another duty I would entrust to you…”

Fordola waited patiently as the prince seemed to think over his words for a moment, before he favoured her with a smile. “Before I entrust this duty to you, there is a more pressing concern that needs addressing. Firstly, it is the next day after your return to Ala Mhigo...General Mattenix and his personal guard have been quietly attempting to locate you. He asked me a few veiled questions this morning and I deigned to tell him you were indeed alive and somewhere within Ala Mhigo. It seems he is most keen to make your acquaintance.”

The prince stepped closer, the smile widening. “I also had the pleasure of receiving a debriefing from the head of the Vulpes, I believe you know him, Savlor Quo Catradia? I mentioned in an off-hand manner that you had been spotted in a top secret facility beneath the castle. By now, I fully expect him to have told General Mattenix this nugget of information and I suspect the good General and his men are on the way at this very moment…”

Fordola felt a mixture of emotions, including some semblance of panic flutter in her chest. Surely after all she had gone through, Lord Zenos did not propose to allow Mattenix to imprison her?

“Myself and Lord Aulus will now depart by a different exit.” The prince reached out with one gauntleted hand and touched Fordola’s cheek tenderly. She did not flinch away. “Your gunblade is in my quarters waiting for you to take it and depart for the front…”

He leaned in close to Fordola. “Again, I ask you to prove to me the Wolf I think you are.” He held her gaze meaningfully for one long moment. Then, releasing her hand he walked away, towards the steps down from the apparatus. 

Lord Aulus stepped forwards, the smile was back. “You probably have a few moments before the General arrives,” he added. “The paralysis should have almost worn off and your aetheric reading proves that you should have the full benefit of our modifications, I expect a great performance from you.”

He beamed one more time, but it was tinged with sudden malice as he favoured Fordola one more mock wave. “You are now a resonant, Fordola rem Lupis - don’t disappoint Lord Zenos or myself. Rest assured I will be watching you very closely from a secure location...don’t worry about making a mess.” Tittering quietly at the last, the scientist started descending down the steps and out of sight.

  
  
Fordola slowly swung her bare legs around and rested them off the side of the table as she watched Lord Aulus join Prince Zenos at the back of the vast chamber where a small, partly hidden doorway stood. Zenos gave her one last look, a ravenous grin which even at this distance was obvious in its intent. The two men left, and the door slammed shut and she heard a latch turn

Fordola was alone.

\---

She waited a few moments, focusing on steadying her breathing and clearing her muddled thoughts. Then, slowly she lowered her legs down to the floor, gasping slightly as muscles protested. Slower still, using her arms on the table as leverage, she steadied herself on the floor next to the operating table.

She falteringly took a step towards the steps that led down the side of the apparatus, back to the ground level of the massive chamber, but found her legs would only haltingly move.

Suddenly, she felt a pulse of pain in her head - like something eating into her brain - _danger_ , it screamed to her, _danger_! There was a new noise other than the low hum of machinery, the noise of metal footsteps ringing on the floor.

She backed up to the operating table and half knelt behind it, facing back towards the far wall where she and Lord Aulus had originally entered the chamber.

Sure enough, just as she bent out of sight, the door was kicked open with a crash and an armoured Garlean soldier rushed in, gunblade at his side, opening the door for more troops to pour in at a rush.

There must have been over 20 men that steadily fanned before Mattenix sas Vandiatius entered, a further few soldiers entering closely behind before the door slammed shut behind them. 

Unlike his armoured troops, the General was plainly attired in his dress uniform - unarmoured, a duelling cane and revolver at his side. The well armed Garlean troops however were fully armoured and helmeted...the majority wielding the short gunblade, the hauteclaire revolver, the personal weapon of Mattenix’s Landis guard…

“What is this place?” Fordola could make out the Generals words quite easily, despite the great distance separating them, her ears seemed particularly keen.

“Some sort of research facility…” One of the troops close to him answered (a captain?) as the rest of the guard kept close to the door. “The Elzeen savage said she was trying to find some sort of weapon to lead a rebellion against Lord Zenos.”

“Pah, preposterous!” Mattenix scoffed loudly, throwing his head back with the motion. “The things savages say to save their own necks...fan out men, comb this area!”

“You heard the general!” The captain loudly shouted to the assembled men, gesturing with a clenched fist. “Find the savage!”

The Garleans began to spread out across the room, starting to inch down the chamber towards the upraised apparatus on which Fordola hid. 

Suddenly a cry echoed out, “Look captain!” Fordola peeked over the table to see a Garlean soldier emerge from behind the curtain where she had changed earlier. The trooper was holding aloft her smallclothes for the others to see. “Looks like she is here somewhere!”

Mattenix came forward, laughing uproariously. He seized the small bit of fabric and held it high to the other men. “See these boys? No cobwebs - you’re in for a treat if you find her!!”

The mocking laughter was repeated by many of the soldiers and Fordola felt a burning anger spread through her. The ache in her arms and legs seemed to vanish as the white hot rage poured over her. It was like a dam had been opened in her body as energy flowed through her and she felt a trembling desire for movement, for violence.

Still, she was rational and hesitated. There were over twenty soldiers, well armed and armoured...she was wearing almost nothing and had no weapons to hand. She frowned, trying to focus her thoughts as the Garleans resumed slowly moving down the chamber towards her and for the first time...saw something.

Each soldier seemed to...glow with a very slight outline, a blue haze here, a red haze there, purple, white, black...a medley of colours. Some were similar, but always there was a slightly different intensity or shade. She became aware too, of a strange taste in her mouth, acid and sharp, like fresh blood and tried to ignore it.

The Garleans were now half way down the chamber, spread out, most in pairs, starting to examine the strange coffins that ran up to the legs of the apparatus on which Fordola hid. She noted that the gaps through which she had seen the Scion, Kryle, earlier through had been sealed, it was now impossible to look inside.

Then suddenly, the pulsing pain at her head intensified and her whole vision wavered….

_Hear,_

It was a dead rattle of a voice, like a tree cracking in two, sexless, ancient and distorted. 

_ThiNKKKKKKK,_

The voice stretched out and jarring in her head, unbearable, she clenched her fists as she felt close to blacking out...

But then suddenly her head was clear again, and the Garleans were now very close to the base of apparatus. She had seconds before the first would climb the steps and see the table and Fordola crouched behind it. Time to move.

She searched around for a weapon, for anything! There, on the table of consoles was the strange aether measuring device Aulus had used on her earlier. Keeping low to the floor, she scooped it up and held it in her hand.

It was small, only a little larger than her hand, but reassuringly weightly and made of a hard material. She glanced back down, the soldiers were now clustering around the base of the platform, examining the coffins, murmuring among themselves. Mattenix was still near the far wall, examining something with two guards.

Then she heard the armoured footsteps on the steps leading up to the platform, three soldiers were coming up, time to choose! A quick glance down the far side of the apparatus showed it to be several yalms, but if she could jump it, she would be concealed among the Garlean coffins.

Bracing her legs, she slid off the side hoping nobody would see her fall and landed quietly, marveling at how her legs barely jarred from falling such a distance! She was now obscured by two coffins on either side which towered over her. This sense of empowerment was fleeting however as she looked up to see the last of three guards reaching the top of the apparatus, noting that there were a dozen others on the ground lever very close.

“Have you found anything yet?” The captain's cold voice rang out from near Mattenix. “What's up there?” 

“More machina.” Came the shout back from above. “Some sort of...machina table.”

“Keep searching!” Came the shout back and Fordola felt an overwhelming sense of danger, her skin turned to gooseflesh and she glanced back instinctively, crouching next to a coffin that shielded her view.

A Garlean armoured trooper was approaching, carefully examining the coffins and in a moment he would be standing next to her. She waited, poised. Hide? Fight? Flee? All the possibilities ran through her head in an instance.

_FeeeeeeEEELLLllllllllllll,_

The creaking, ancient voice rumbled through her brain, thankfully absent of pain. Twelve be damned, was she hearing spirits or ghosts now?

“Come on men, we don’t have all day!” Mattenix’s voice shouted out, impatient and belligerent. “Find the savage whore if she’s hiding here, drag her to my feet and you can all have a go!”

Fordola’s mind cleared as again white hot anger pulsed, she looked out from the side of the coffin, the Garlean officer was examining the other side of it now, distracted and looking away…

She moved out, smooth and supple, and in one swift motion bent her right arm around the helmet and twisted as hard as she could!

To her surprise, the head immediately cracked fully round in her vice grip and there was a sickening (but thankfully quiet) sound of bones splintering and breaking. The man didn't even cry out as he slumped and Fordola caught the body, carefully to keep the fall as soundless as possible.

Gods, was she stronger as well? Was this what being a resonant meant? Was she some sort of monster now?

She felt a strong ‘pulse’ of danger spear through her brain and turned as two Garlean officers came round the other side of the apparatus and spotted her crouching over the dead man.

“She’s here!!!” One of the men shouted as both raised their short handed gunblades.

But they did not fire, they hesitated, oh - they wanted her alive!

She didn't think it through, just released all the bubbling anger, rage and fear within her as a raw pulse of energy. She pushed forwards with sudden speed, faster than a Hyur had ever moved, closing the short distance to the two men and brough Aulus’ machina device down like a brick on the first man’s armoured head.

It connected with a weighty, satisfying crunch and he fell and Fordola spun, pivoting into the other man connecting the device straight into the middle of his armoured face. 

He crumbled, and as he fell his trigger finger tightened in a death vice, the gunblade firing echoing shots aloud into the air - and then all hells broke loose.

Time seemed to slow as she crouched there, the two bodies still falling - ablaze with otherworldly energy, with fire, with purpose, as Garleans converged on her from all sides. 

The first to have a clear shot advanced as a group, four Garleans approached from around the apparatus coffins, raising gunblades. She didn't need to see the haze of aether around each man to tell her that any interest in taking her alive had now vanished.

Rather, she saw strange, wispy aetheric lines reach out and connect to her, as if they were focusing entirely on her, gunblades raised to shoot her dead. She could _see_ the shots, like tracer fire, glowing from their revolvers, connecting with her bare throat, before it even happened! 

She dived left, behind one of the metal coffins as the shots rang out in a crackle of energy.

She could hear movement above, the three men above! They would have a clear shot from the steps, she had to move! She glanced at her first victim, the corpse rested next to his fallen gunblade. She rolled, picking up the short, bladed weapon at the end of the movement and charged the four Garleans.

One tried to get a shot off but it flew wide as she closed the distance. A blur of movement, a fountain of raw power - a demon to behold before she was upon them, swiping the short blade with vicious, augmented abandon. 

The Garlean soldiers seemed sluggish, and slow, and she - unstoppable. Their every move was clearly telegraphed to her in advance, a mist of shadows and visions kept her from death as she cut them down. 

As she slashed the blade across the neck guard of the last man standing, she felt a pulse of danger, and a bloom of red danger blossomed around her.

There was a metallic tapping sound and she divided and rolled past the fallen men as a Garlean grenade exploded where she had been a moment ago, thrown from the three men descending the stairs above. 

She came out of her roll as flecks of white hot shrapnel seared her back and levelled the gunblade at them, firing all three chambers in rapid succession. The first connected and the man fell with a death scream from the steps but the other two went wide.

Curses and insults filled the air as the Garlean troops continued to try and close around her. Several shot as they moved in but each time Fordola sensed it coming and ducked behind objects, or pivoted smoothly – her body almost moving on its own.

She danced between the slow men clad in their cumbersome, sluggish armour. Battering aside sword strokes, slashing viciously – they seemed helpless to stop her as she flew between them, barefoot and wild. 

It seemed like ages, but in reality hardly any time had passed and all the Garleans near here were dead or dying.

“What are you playing out!” Mattenix’s course tones rang out from afar, there was no panic in those commanding tones. “She’s just one savage, cut her down!”

She looked up, a dozen or so Garleans were lined up in front of Mattenix, gunblades raised – advancing carefully forwards in a line, watching the mad, half-naked woman standing among the dead bodies of a dozen more men, gunblade dripping with blood.

“Go and get more men!” Mattenix gestured to one of the two guards standing by him who darted for the door and pulled at the handle firmly. It did not budge.

“It's locked General!” And that cry of panic did more damage to the Garlean cause then Fordola ever could. The aether around the advancing Garleans thrashed, she could almost see the doubt that suddenly gripped them, as unwillingly several half turned heads back towards the door.

Fordola leapt! Higher than a normal Hyur could ever jump; feeling the pulses of energy pounding her body and landed amongst the Garlean line. She ducked and weaved, blade stinging and weaving as the Garleans tried to hack at her as she danced through them, effortless and unstoppable.

Again, the bodies fell and she stood alone, amongst the bodies of the Garlean line. Blood trickled down her back from the earlier grenade, and now it was matched by blood from her arm where a Garlean shot had come close, but not close enough.

She dropped the hauteclaire revolve, its blade dented and sullied beyond practical use as more bullets whistled around her. One scorched her shoulder as she moved just a moment too slow and pain blossoming and more blood flowed as she picked up a second gunblade and threw it, arcing through the air to bury the shooter in the chest. 

Picking a third gunblade with a single remaining shot, she met three Garleans who charged her, blades raised high. The three fought as a unit, experienced, disciplined and undeterred by their dead brothers around them, nor the half naked, bloodied woman with a single eye that gleaned red.

  
  
Fordola was an experienced, vetern fighter but she would have fallen to the three men before her. However, she could _hear_ their fear, their thoughts, their doubts. She could _feel_ the whistle of air a blade would make before it was swung at her, giving her that split-second to dart aside, to parry, to duck. And she had all the time to _think_ ahead, almost as if everything was in a strange slow motion.

For a moment she was held at bay, as the three Garleans pivoted, stabbed and hacked at her as she was denied an opening to counterattack. Then one slipped slightly on the blood dripping on the floor and Fordola swept forwards, blade slicing across the neck and then it was two against one. She was pushing forwards, growing in confidence even as the two remaining men faltered and the openings were suddenly obvious. Left! Right! Two more bodies slumped to the ground. 

An echoing crack whistled out and a bullet zinged past her ear. She turned, raising her revolver and fired its last shot effortlessly at the man who had taken up a position back on the stairs behind. He fell with a cry and Fordola was left standing for a moment, no immediate enemies left to kill. Her chest heaved, but she did not feel tired, rather she felt alive, more alive than ever! Alight with a power, a crackling energy that coursed through her. 

Red aether pulsed around her and she ducked as another shot cracked past where her head had been.

She looked up, towards the wall. Mattenix and his two remaining men were clustered at the door, one of the guardsmen frantically tugging at the immovable door. Mattenix had his small pistol out and was looking at her, his face a mask of fear and revulsion.

She strode forwards, picking up speed and sidestepping as the other guardsman sent a wild volley of shots at her. She charged down on the three men, even as her heightened senses heard the generals pistol click empty. 

She took out the near guardsman first, arcing the blade up and through the weak neck guard, then she pivoted around Mattenix, bringing the blade crashing down on the second guardsman by the door.

And then, in a blink of the eye she turned and ran the blade through Mattenix’s chest, driving it with such force the blade crunched into the wall, holding the general fast.

“That was for Mari.” She whispered, releasing the blade and stepping back.

The eyes of Mattenix sas Vandiatius met her own briefly. “...you savage…” he whispered horsely as blood spurted from his mouth and the light in his eyes faded forever.

She stepped away from the body, almost slipping over the guardsman’s corpse on the floor as the energy, the elation of battle faded. She stood alone, amongst the carnage she had wrought. Garlean bodies strewn everywhere, all the way back to the apparatus, blood splattered across the floor, the strange machina devices and...herself. She hardly noticed the pain in her body, it seemed distant and unimportant.

Was this what Lord Zenos had wanted? Would he now kill her for her murder of the top Garlean general in Ala Mhigo? No...she corrected herself, it was’nt murder, this was a twisted test set by the prince and Lord Aulus...and she had passed it, right?

Walking, almost in a daze, she turned and headed back the way she had come, stepping over fallen bodies, her bare feet padding through blood to the door which Zenos and Aulus had exited by earlier. She pushed and the door slid open revealing dark steps heading up which she climbed, leaving blood training behind her on the cold, hard surface.

\----

The silence in the courtroom had never been more oppressive, or doom-laden then it felt now, akin to a morgue as Fordola finished speaking for a moment. She looked left, without meaning to,, at the Warrior of Light and saw, to her everlasting shame, pity flickering in those eyes.

“Don’t you look at me like that!” She shouted, disgraced to feel sudden wetness in her eyes. Cursing this woman who blazed with golden light. “Anyone but you! You who’ve slaughtered hundreds of Garlean troops to stand where you stand, I don’t need your...your pity!”

“The prisoner will be silent!!” Admiral Merlywyb bellowed loudly and Fordola’s shoulders shook as she tore her eyes away from Sara, the Eorzean champion.

Why did it have to be her? 

Surely if anyone could understand Fordola...it would be her?

Her enemy, but also...the only one who might...

“You did not think to hide, or even run?” The seedseer asked, no emotion in her voice. “Instead you chose slaughter?”

“I did not have a choice!” Fordola retorted, trying to keep scorn out of her voice and failing, grateful that the question brought her back to the present. “You cannot seriously expect that I could have hidden, or even had a chance to run in that situation?”

“No…” The seedseer said, this time with a touch of sadness. “No...I suppose I can’t expect that of you.”

“So!” Raubahn spoke up loudly, although - Gods, even his voice sounded a bit uneasy. “You slaughtered the top general of Ala Mhigo mere days before the city was to come under siege, what happened then?”

“I followed the stairs.” Fordola took deep breaths, steadying her voice and raging emotions. “Several times again I came to abandoned corridors, branching routes but I...I could sense Zenos’s aether, like following a faint scent. Which way he had walked and climbed and I kept on following the passages and the stairs as they led higher and higher. Finally a door slipped me out into the palace proper. I was somewhere high up and the afternoon sun was beaming through windows. Ahead, I could see a grand double door which I knew were the chambers of Lord Zenos. There were two guards outside and as I approached, half dressed and covered in blood they simply stood aside and opened the door. They had been expecting me, and I walked past, into the personal chambers of Lord Zenos.”

\---

The doors slowly shut behind her, as Fordola took in the opulent surroundings.

This was the royal quarters, where Kings and Queens of Ala Mhigo resided; where King Manfred himself had planned and directed his Autumn War against Eorzea. The great room spread out, rich with history and thick purple carpets. There was a crackling fireplace which blazed with heat beneath a stuffed griffin's head mounted high on the wall, bookcases that were filled with scrolls and texts and golden mounted candles which flickered around her. 

Ahead, was a great hardwood table next to a massive panoramic window affording unrivalled views over the city of Ala Mhigo and far below, the dusty stretches of the far-off Lochs. 

“So you are the wolf I knew you to be.” 

The prince’s tone was practically purring and she turned to see him reclining on a long, rich sofa, a glass of wine casually in one hand. The armour was gone and he was dressed casually, for the prince, in a fine white linen tunic and black breeches. He was smiling at her, but Fordola’s gaze was drawn to her gunblade, which rested against the sofa by the prince’s leg. 

He gestured, towards the table by the massive window. “There is a wash basin and a towel, clean yourself up.”

She didn't move for a moment, her eyes flicking from the prince on her right and the gunblade at his side. Strangely, this caused the smile on Lord Zenos’ lips to widen, and he gestured again with the wine glass towards the table. “Your blade will still be here for you wolf.”

Slowly, she moved, spotting the golden basin that had been placed on the table, a fine woolen towel resting on the table besides it.

She looked down in the basin, seeing her reflection for the first time and let out a startled gasp.

Her left eye was the green it has always been, but her right eye was that of a stranger. It glowed a faint, pinkish - otherworldly - red. As Fordola stared she began to see patterns in the red glow, tiny arcane symbols seemed to swirl on her pupil within.

“Lord Aulus was most pleased.” The prince’s tones washed over her, as if from a great distance. “The procedure was a complete success. Some of the first experiments had the eye but not the complete mandala pattern that allows you to see aether like no other. Some of the first, successful experiments had the eye, but then the aetheric pressures would eat them alive...it was most messy. Lord Aulus found that an external pressure applied to a subject soon after the procedure, a quickening, if you like - creates a balance of sorts within the resonant. You are the first successful proof of his life's work.”

Fordola was still dumbly staring at her eye, ignoring the blood, the dirt and her askew hair. “Is...is it real m’lord?” She asked hesitantly, “The eye?”

“What does it matter if it's real or artificial?” Lord Zenos replied, his tone sounding a little more bored now. “Were Lord Aulus here no doubt he would talk at length about the procedure, but he will now have returned to the lab, to clean up as it were.”

She turned at that, staring back at the prince as he supped from his cup of wine. “General Mattenix...is dead.” She stated flatly, sure he already knew.

“Yes I know.” Zenos didn't bother looking at her, staring instead into his wine. “I was quite impressed. Of course it's a shame to lose a good general, but his successes were behind him and I gained a new, sharper weapon in exchange.” Now he met her eyes and gestured again to the bowl firmly.

She turned and again stared at this unfamiliar face, before hesitantly beginning to wash.

The water was blissfully warm, and she carefully washed her hands in it, following it with her arms and shoulders, wincing as her own dried blood was soaked away. Realising suddenly she was doing things in the wrong order she took a breath and punged her head in, losing herself for a moment in the warmth surrounding her. 

Lord Zenos waited patiently as she used the towel to dry herself, and then wipe down her legs. Finished, she looked again into the bowel. No reflection now, the waters were deeply sullied with a dark crimson. 

Feeling more refreshed then she carried to admit she stretched her limbs and looked out at the city below, basking in the late afternoon sunshine. She touched the window, real glass, it must have cost a fortune.

She turned and padded back across the room to stand before the reclining prince, who watched her appreciably. A small part of her had wanted to drape the towel across her scantily clad body and conceal herself before his hungry eyes. But she had resisted, choosing instead to confidently walk, unafraid, over to him - knowing it was what he wanted to see.

Once she would have been afraid to meet his eyes, to show proper respect and deference, but now she met his eyes, knowing he was pleased by what he saw. 

“What would you have me do my prince?” She asked as he looked up at her, an open question.

The prince's eyes lazily rovered over her body and Fordola waited, allowing him a moment to enjoy playing out this moment.

“Your mandala is fading.” The prince finally noted. “At a glance, your eye look normal now and I see your wounds have closed. When you are engaged again in battle I expect the mandala will reappear responding to your exertions...in time you will learn to control it at will.”

“Control it?” Fordola repeated, wishing she could do more than just dumbly repeat the prince's word.

“Once we have vanquished our enemies, you will lead a 100 others, a century of resonants like you.” The prince leaned back, holding the glass of wine casually. “You and your century will spearhead my thrust into Eorzea once the alliance has been crushed before the walls of Ala Mhigo. Lord Aulus will see that your training is complete and you learn to fully control your abilities. Without control your grasp on your new power is likely to be... _tentative_ and unpredictable as time passes. You are now my finest weapon, but you are still a wild wolf. With time and training, you will burn as that second sun I promised you would be.”

“I see m’lord.” Fordola felt some of her misgivings fade away even if uncertainty remained' but then - ‘before the walls of Ala Mhigo’ reminded her. “With your leave, I must head for Specula Imperatoris immediately!” She blurted out suddenly.

“I told you.” The prince replied lazily, gesturing with the wine glass in a wide circle. “It is too late. My scouts report the outpost is surrounded by 4,000 Eorzean irregulars with more arriving. Directed fire from Castrum Abania keeps them at bay, but it is just a matter of time until _she_ inevitably disables their fire.”

“You mean, the Warrior of Light?” Fordola suddenly nodded in realisation, feeling her fists clench which earned her a nod of approval from the Prince.

“Exactly.” He purred. “I want you to go to Castrum Abania and wait for her. Extend an invitation to the walls of Ala Mhigo for her and all who wish to follow her. There I will personally take her body and soul to the facilities beneath Ala Mhigo and Lord Aulus will unlock her every secret. She will be ours, mine - forever and ever.”

His voice took on a strange fervour, and he half closed his eyes as he spoke the last and Fordola shivered at the thought. Still, her orders were clear, but…”My men, Prince Zenos. I would not abandon them.”

“Nor should you.” Prince Zenos said, looking her directly in the eye. “But their position is untenable, they are surrounded and all our forces are now pulling back to Ala Mhigo. You must decide their fate from Castrum Abania, I think you will know what to do.”

She met those eyes and this time looked away quickly, shivering, as the thought appeared in her head, perfectly clear and perfectly terrible. 

“All that matters now...” Prince Zenos’s voice whispered, intensity burning in every syllable “...Is that you bring me Sara Alexander, their Warrior of Light. Bring her to me...and I will make you viceroy of Ala Mhigo. You will rule this city in my name as you see fit, as my Warrior of Ala Mhigo, first of my resonants. Can you do this, Fordola rem Lupis? Can you finish what we have started?”

The prince had risen to his feet, the wine placed down on the carpet, her gunblade held in one hand and she looked at him, and met those terrible eyes.

“Yes, my lord.” She whispered. “I will not fail you.”

“You will not.” He reached out idly with one bare hand, caressing her hair softly, softer than she would have believed. “I know you burn with the same fire I feel for that woman...but she is mine, don’t forget this.”

He withdrew the hand and again, a smile spread across his face as he offered her the gunblade. “You have destroyed nearly all your enemies within, soon you will help me destroy all our enemies without.”

She took the weapon in her right hand, a feeling of power, of purpose coming within it and it must have shown on her face, for Lord Zenos smile broadened. “You are most pleasant to look at currently, but I would not have you depart for Castrum Abania dressed as such if you do not wish it.” Again a hand reached out towards her hair, but this time he hesitated, and dropped it slowly looking away towards the window.

“Time is short.” He spoke more curtly now, leaning back casually. “I have an airborne magitek unit that will take you to Castrum Abania waiting in the courtyard. Should you wish to wear your customary garb and tie up one final witness, know that it has been taken into custody by a certain Elzeen...let me tell you where his quarters can be found.” 

\---

The quarters of Savlor Quo Catradia were easy to find with the prince's directions. Using the back passageways, Fordola had snaked down steps until she reached the base level of the palace. There she had emerged from a side passageway onto the correct passageway which was pleasantly abandoned.

Lord Zenos had assured her that General Mattenix had not raised a general alurm for her, preferring to settle matters quickly with his personal guard. Nevertheless, in her current garb it may be best to avoid unnecessary attention. 

She scrutinised the door, it was unlocked, and she carefully pushed it open with her free hand, her gunblade held ready in the other and walked in, as silent as possible. 

His quarters were spartan, a simple desk and chair, a bedroll and a small skylight that lit the room. He sat with his back to her, scribbling away at the desk but his ears were twitching and he turned as the door slid shut behind her.

“Fordola…” He whispered, in disbelief, eyes widening as he took her in, the garb, the gunblade ready in her hand. 

“Hello Savlor.” She smiled. His aether was so much easier to see then the other Garleans, it pulsed, a green haze that flickered around his head - just above those twitching eyes she’d always hated. “I’ve come for my things.” She indicated the budle on the floor by the bedroll before looking back at him. “I’m not sure how you came into their possession but I will have them.”

“Lord Zenos presented them to me this morning.” Savlor replied, and she saw the sudden realisation flash across his face. “Where is General Mattenix?” He now demanded, rising slowly out of his seat, facing her. He was wearing plain Garlean red robes, Fordola could see no visible weapon on him.

“He’s dead.” She replied, smiling as she saw his aether flicker and pulse as she said the words, as if he was thinking his next move, what to do, what to say…

Suddenly his aether flared, it reached out in a sudden line to Fordola faster then the Garleans before and she swayed left as the Elzeen’s hand blurred in his robes, flicking two serrated knives in a single motion at where her head had been a moment ago.

The knives thudded deeply into the door behind and Fordola lunged forwards. Despite her unnatural speed, Savlor managed to throw a third knife before she closed the distance, but she saw it coming before it was even thrown, and deflected it off her gunblade before slicing it up diagonally across his unarmoured body, opening him from hip to ear in a single cut. 

Savlor stumbled back, knocking over the chair and falling against the desk and looked down in surprise at the blood welling out of his chest. His surprise was compounded as he looked back at Fordola standing before him and tried to reach out for her face with one hand, “Your...eye....” He muttered and then slumped and fell with a crash to the floor.

Fordola looked down at the Elzeen, not without some small level of pity. Like her, he had been an outsider that had fought to attain a place in the Garlean ranks for his countrymen. It was too bad things had to be this way.

She checked her gear, it was all in order and appeared to have been cleaned and polished by someone. She quickly dressed, conscious of the dead body next to her and strapped the gunblade reassuringly at her side. 

“Farewell Savlor.” She muttered, and surprised herself by nodding at the body, noticing the green aetheric haze was slowly drifting away towards the ceiling. “May your soul find its way to Silvertear Lake.”

She walked away, carefully shutting the door behind her with one further, regretful look behind.

\---

As the distance between Savlor’s room increased, she walked with increasing confidence. Striding through the palace, feeling a new woman, she reached the courtyard in quick order.

True to the prince's words, a small, open-topped, Garlean magitek flyer was waiting for her, twin rotors spinning in readiness as several guardsmen nearby watching in interest.

She approached at a run and the Garlean pilot nodded as she vaulted the left wing, clambering into one of two passenger seats behind the pilot. 

No words were exchanged as the ceruleum engine whined to new heights as the unit took off and rose into the sky. Before her the palace loomed and she looked up, at the great panoramic window at the top of the castle and swore she saw the shadow of Lord Zenos gazing at her from the lofty heights.

Then the unit was turning, and diving out across a city bathed in twilight, for Castrum Abania and the Warrior of Light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for some of the lovely recent messages/comments/kudos, it really gave me a boost in writing these last few chapters :) 
> 
> This one was a long time coming, but writing an 'extended combat sequence' proved horribly difficult - in the end I had to almost D&D it out on a board complete with dice rolls, hm! I need to read more Wheel of Time or something...
> 
> Anyway, thank you very much for reading, one more chapter and then we'll break for a recess.
> 
> Much love


	17. The Abyss

#  **The Abyss**

A bleak golden haze was visible on the dark, early morning horizon, as the Imperial magitek flyer swooped in towards the top landing decks of Castrum Abania.

Fordola was twitching with irritation at their late arrival. They had departed Ala Mhigo on the twilight hour yesterday, but no sooner had they cleared the Lochs outside the city than an engine fault had forced them to land at Porta Praetoria for repairs.

She had felt neither the need, nor the inclination for sleep, so had paced, cursed, and fumed as the few Imperials at the checkpoint tried to fix up the flyer.

Finally, they had got on their way again, but now as dawn's first light kissed the air, she was sure she could hear the beating of her heart over the flyers rotor blades. Surely the loud thudding would betray her unease and agitation to those around her.

Castrum Abania was hacked into the top of a nameless peak along the eastern Abalathia’s Spine which separated the arid plains of western Gyr Abania from the Lochs and city of Ala Mhigo to the east. It made for an imposing sight, even if the dim light. The citadel rising up from the mountain, jutted with towers and spires like a giant's fingers. A long iron wall expanded around the outside of the citadel mountain, which had the effect of making the mountaintop appear garlanded with a black crown.

As the flyer swooped in across the wall Fordola caught a glimpse of the mighty artillery cannon itself, glistening in the first dim rays of light. It seemed to take up a third of the base itself, a towering iron phallus surrounded by support towers, aerials and sensors.

Construction of Castrum Abania had started shortly after the Ala Mhigan occupation. Fordola had been only a little girl at the time. But she dimly remembered her father had secured some of the first contracts available to the Ala Mhigan people, shipping raw minerals, workers and supply columns to the new Garlean citadel. It wasn't until the battle of Silvertear Skies, a year later, when the great wyrm Midgardsormr and his brood annihilated the Garlean 2nd airfleet and the great flagship - Agrius - that the key function of Castrum Abania had been decided.

Lord Gaius had decreed a great cannon be installed, sufficient to repel even the most gigantic of dragons should they dare approach Ala Mhigo from Coerthas, and so it had been done. A shame he had not lived to see it completed.

Laid upon the rocky ground within the walls were metalclad strips which the flyer put down upon with a final buzz of rotors. Even before the blades had stopped moving she had vaulted out of her seat, landing lightly before a startled Garlean welcome party of four armoured guardsmen.

The lead Garlean saluted somewhat hesitantly, a faint blue haze of aether swirling around his helmet. “Good morning Ma’am,” his voice at least was strong and clear over the diminishing hum of the flyer. “We were notified of your delayed arrival. We’re to escort you to the fire control room where the base commander, Sevick quo Argos is waiting for you.”

“In a moment captain.” Fordola held up her hand, distracted, looking at the battlements of the wall behind her. “Do you have a spyglass on you?”

The captain hesitated, then reached into his uniform to produce a small golden telescope and held it out to Fordola who took it with a nod.

She then turned and brazenly walked away from the captain and his men, heading for the wall. From the inside, it was about thrice her height, steps were visible a few dozen yalms away, but she ignored them, cutting a straight line to the wall.

She tensed her legs, feeling the unnatural energy that now flowed through her swirl and she pushed hard, leaping into the air with wild abandon. Clearing the wall with some height to spare, landing on the battlement itself.

Gods, she felt…. powerful! She didn’t fully understand her abilities and limitations, but she had a dim, instinctive feeling for the raw energy within her. There would be time to stop and consider it when her work was done, for now she had to trust in her instincts. Putting this to one side, she looked out across the great expanse of the Peaks.

Another time, the view before her would have inspired awe. She could have stood here for hours taking it all in. 

The sun was dawning on the far horizon and a dim light was spreading across the whole length of Gyr Albania open like a tapestry. The monstrous tower of Castellum Velodyna astride the river was easy to make out, reaching up to the sky like an accusing middle finger. The great flag of the rebellion was still cruelly visible.

Beyond that, were the myriad peaks and hills where Rhalgrs Reach hid, and beyond that, just visible on the horizon was a faint black outline, that she knew was Baelsar's Wall. Closer to home she could make out the nearby town of Ala Ghiri, now almost certainly in the hands of the Eorzeans.

But her focus was elsewhere, and she looked down towards the base of the mountain on which Castrum Abania stood. Here was the Ironroad, the main passage between Eorzea and Ala Mhigo. It was the critical route upon which caravans, traders and armies advanced either east and west.

Specula Imperators sat astride this trade route; a single tall gleaming spire which rose up into the air surrounded by high walls on all sides. It was more a glorified watchtower, with a tower stretching for the heavens bedecked by communications devices and other Garlean machina compared to Castellum Velodyna. It was partially surrounded on all sides by walls but they served more as choke-points for traders to be checked and approved, rather than as serious obstacles to invaders.

She felt her ears prick. She could hear something on the winds, it was the sounds of many feet trampling on the earth far below her. Surely not though...the base of the mountain was malms away and if her hearing was so attuned would she not be overpowered by the noise of the citadel around her?

Trusting in her instincts though, she raised the spyglass to her eye and peered down onto the plains surrounding Specula Imperators. Almost immediately she picked out the shadowy mass of an army advancing! Hundreds, thousands, of Eorzeans were moving forward, no flags or torches to betray them, but weapons held ready. She could even make out a great brute of a man leading them from the front, huge golden horns astride his helmet. 

The army was lit up in a haze of aetheric currents twinkling like brilliant stars - and she searched for a moment, confident she could pick out the champion of Eorzea; heart hammering in her breast.

“Ma’am.” The captain who had greeted her had managed to catch up and stand beside her on the wall peering out. “What can you see?”

“The Eorzeans are advancing on Specula Imperators!” Fordola gave up and turned around, pointed down into the darkness below. “Why isn’t the main cannon primed and firing? Is this castrum on full alert or not?”

The captain peered down into the distance and Fordola could tell the man was squinting. She almost felt pity for a moment, in the half-light before morning, he had no chance of picking out any movement that for her - was as clear as day. The man turned to Fordola and opened his mouth, then reprised his words caching her passionate look. “If there is anything out there, Specula Imperatoris will call it in. The cannon needs some light to align with, but the sun is almost up - the situation will be clear very shortly.”

“Fool!” Fordola threw the spyglass over the edge of the wall in a moment of burning anger. “The Eorzeans must know that as well, by the time the situation is clear they will be inside the walls!” _and then I will have no choice_ …the thought filled her, consumed her...

She let it boil within her, fill her with wrath and fire…give her the energy to do what must be done.

“Get me up to the fire control centre!” She snapped to the hapless captain. “Lead the way! Now!”

\---

Castrum Abania was particularly cold and grey on the inside, yet there was...something unnatural about the place. As the captain led her at a rapid pace through the mountain complex, down winding passages Fordola could feel some sixth sense of ‘wrongness’ about her. Aulus mal Asina had worked here, had done his experiments here that had led him to success with her, the first resonant. She allowed a shiver to pass through her, what other experiments were locked below in the bowels of the castrum?

After what felt like ages, the captain finally led her to a tall lift shaft, before flicking a switch on the far wall. The platform on which they stood started grinding upwards, ascending towards the tower's eyrie far above.

“We should be there in a few moments ma’am.” The captain fidgeted. “I’ll hand over to centurion Argos then and rejoin my unit.”

“Fine.” Fordola nodded curtly, pacing back and forth as the platform crawled up, too slowly! The Eorzeans could be in the walls of Specula Imperatoris now, in the tower itself... _the tower_...a faint memory jogged her. Something she had seen…

“Ma’am…” The captain awkwardly continued and Fordola felt the memory slip away from her like a puff of cloud.

“Stop calling me that!” She snapped at the unfortunate man and she actually saw the man flinch back from her. Maybe for just a moment her eye had flared with the strange mandala pattern Zenos had mentioned?

“Apologies.” He bowed deeply, not one for courage. “We were not properly told how to address you on arrival. Just that you spoke with authority granted to you by Lord Zenos himself.”

Fordola took a deep breath, fighting to control her turbulent emotions, focusing on the wisp of blue aether swirling around the man's head to distract her irritation. “What was your question?”

“Does Lord Zenos mean to abandon us up here?” The Garlean asked, fidgeting in his stance. “Half the troops of the castrum have been pulled back to Ala Mhigo and we are undermanned. When will the relief force arrive?”

“I don’t know.” Fordola shook her head, feeling her lips draw tight. “Focus on doing your job, Lord Zenos has a plan.”

She resumed pacing, ignoring the flickering soul before her.

_Lord Zenos had a plan?_ She hoped she could believe it herself. She admitted that the man’s sole obsession appeared to be this ‘Warrior of Light’ - the prince seemed willing to give up vast tracts of territory to lure her into the city itself, why?

Why did she feel something tug at her so? Twice she had been bested by this woman, but not thrice. Fordola wanted to meet her again, to even the score - only then would this all be worth it...right?

The platform juddered to a half with a screech of pistons and valves and she strode past the captain and pushed through the double doors before her.

The control tower of Castrum Abania was all straight lines and high technology. Along the walls were large banks of machina consoles and data-readout screens. A dozen unarmoured Garlean adjutants sat at various areas, fingers typing commands into complex buttons and glowing devices Fordola couldn't start to fathom at exactly what they did.

The massive window at the end of the room left no doubts to the rooms purpose, it offered a commanding view across the peaks. Ahead the main tower of Specula Imperators was clearly visible in the hazy light, however dominating the view of the windows and directly adjacent to the tower was the massive cannon complex itself.

Fordola could see the dark morning sky she had seen on landing was steadily being transformed into a light, hazy blue. The shadows were parting, and the day was beginning.

A fully armed and armoured Garlean officer stood in the center of the room, observing the frenzy of orders, this must be Sevick quo Argos.

“Get me confirmation from Specula Imperators now.” He was snapping down at the men below him. “We need firing solutions now!” He then turned, and noticed Fordola standing at the entrance to the control tower, their eyes met and,

_Flicker_ , she felt a terrible wave of nausea grip her as sudden as a storm. A salty taste filled her mouth and,

_Snow howled around the meager steel walls that surrounded him, three children sat shivering at his feet - a tiny fire was flickering before them, the warmth...slowly dying._

She clutched her head reflectively, she could feel the desperation of the man in the frame. Was that a memory of the Garlean before her? What had she just seen? Could it be someone else's memory in this room around her?

She shook her head and noticed that Sevick quo Argos was saluting her, standing to attention and she walked forwards, shaking off the aftereffects of the image.

“Report!” She barked, already knowing what he would say.

“Enemy forces have overrun the lower facilities at Specula Imperators.” He quickly reported, she could hear the uncertainty in his voice as he spoke. “They appear to be mounting an assault on the main tower. We have already received a request for reinforcements. A unit of legionnaires has been mustered and is ready to depart. They await your orders, Commander.”

_He had no idea did he?_

She had seen the numbers of the Eorzeas, there had been thousands swarming towards Specula Imperators. A unit of legionnaires, a centuria, was perhaps 80 guardsmen - they would be slaughtered to a man, even with heavy magitek support...especially if ‘ _she_ ’ was down there.

For a moment, a tantalising vision spread through her mind. She could lead the unit, she could lead every man out of Castrum Abania to the side of her Crani Lupi. Hack their way through the Eorzeans and send them howling in retreat.

But even as that warm image ran through her body she knew it was a mirage, and contrary to the plans of Lord Zenos. By the time they had descended the mountain, her Crani Lupi would be dead. Or worse; captives for the Garleans to sneer at for as long as they ruled! In this time of crisis, when blood needed to hold the line - her Crani Lupi could throw down their life's work and allow themselves to be hauled away meekly...she could not allow it - she would not allow it!

“Stand down.” The words were calm, quiet and ringed in steel. _Only martyrs could be remembered._

“Commander?” The base commander had lowered his arm and relaxed his pose, a head cocked to try and hear her words.

“Tell them to stand down!” She spoke much more sharply then intended, fixing the man with a baleful look.

To his credit, Sevick quo Argos did not meekly agree, instead he took a half step towards Fordola. “Commander,” he said firmly, “If I may, our people - your people, are still in there. They will be slaughtered.”

She felt her face flush with emotion, “You think I don’t know that!?” She demanded. “I want nothing more than to help them – to lead the bloody charge – but I have my orders!”

She took a deep shuddering breath, ignoring how several of the adjutants had turned and were listening in. The atmosphere in the control tower had changed to one of tense anticipation. She continued in a quiet voice, even to her own ears. “Lord Zenos said no reinforcements. He would have us use the main cannon to destroy the installation.”

“What!” Sevick flinched, as if Fordola had suggested branding him on the spot. “Kill our own soldiers, you must be mistaken!”

_You won’t be killing them, I will_ – the thought buzzed and gnawed at her as she clenched her fists against the building dread within. Lord Zenos had not said it in as many words, but he was hunting for higher stakes, a hunt that would have its climax at Ala Mhigo. As for her…

The Crani Lupi were her family, her brothers and sisters, her children. They would either fight to defend the tower to the last man, or they would surrender and be paraded before the alliance, a legacy of failure, a humiliation worse than death.

_Something that’s supposed to die and won’t, will eventually rot away and infect everything, whether it’s a man or nation_. She remembered the words of her father when he spoke of the old royal family of Ala Mhigo, so long ago…was that the context? The words were unbearable to her, but she had to do this herself. It was unthinkable for someone else to give the order.

She realised the Garleans were all watching her as she shook on the spot. “Mayhaps you’d like to ask Lord Zenos yourself?” She asked, feeling the deadly question come easily to her.

Sevick flinched a second time, raised an arm as if to speak, to argue, to offer a rebuttal…but then he slowly lowered it and looked away from her, unable to meet her eyes,

“I thought not.” She hissed, feeling disappointed he had not argued further - insisted to see the orders, asked for senior confirmation, anything to delay this moment! She spoke up now, projecting to the room, “Initiate the firing sequence! Wars are won on the backs of the dead. Theirs and ours. There is no truth but this! We remain firm and resolute, and always, always do our duty. Now give the order!”

Sevick quo Argos did now turn away from her and gesture to his men. “Initiate firing sequence,” he repeated simply. 

Immediately there was a hive of activity, as the adjutants busied themselves at respective stations, their movements smooth and clearly drilled, a lead adjutant calling out orders. “Initiating Firing Sequence…release safety locks…deploy main cannon!”

There was a rumble heard throughout the tower as outside the massive cannon slowly changed its angle. Lower and lower, it sank into the early morning light, before it clunked into its firing position. The pistons at its base crackling with energy, a whining roar that was growing louder and louder. The anticipation in the room was building to the moment of release but Fordola felt a strange moment of calm. She closed her eyes, whispering their names.

“Ainsfrid…” _The dusty haired youth who had chased urchins through the city streets as a boy while she watched. He had grown into a man, her first captain._

“Hrudolf…” _Always so brave and able, the strongest sword at her side._

“Emelin…” _Still too young for what she had asked of him, but he always took the tasks of his station with a smile and a wink._

“For us.” She whispered hoarsely to herself. “For our people. For our future.”

She waited, but no release came, no crack of thunder, just the building whine of energy that crackled through the control tower. She half opened her eyes and saw Sevick was watching her, his helmeted head not betraying his emotion. He noticed her watching him and spoke up softly. “I need you to confirm the target, Commander.”

“Specula Imperators, main tower. Fire when ready.” Twelve curse her forever, the words came out in a rush.

Sevick gestured to his men at their consoles below. Leavers were thrown, flashing lights lit up consoles, the rumble and whine of energy reached new heights…and a piercing headache rammed into Fordola’s head!

  
  
Her vision swayed and she staggered, clutching her head, wincing with the pain, what was this? Thankfully nobody was looking at her, all attention was on the work being done and the view of the main cannon. Final buttons were pressed and then everything was suddenly still…

…before there was a deafening CRASH of thunder and a massive, roaring fireball at the barrel of the cannon. A huge dust cloud was swept off the mountain from the cannon’s shockwave, plastering the casturms walls below in an avalanche of particles swept up into a frenzy by the recoil.

She had closed her eyes, half in the pain that filled her head, half because she could not bear to watch. But she heard the echoing crash as the shell hit home, smashing into the central section of the main tower of Specula Imperators and knew it meant the death of everyone inside. The crash echoed through her head, reverberating as if a great door had been slammed shut next to her head, closing something off forever. She swayed in place, eyes dry, fists clenched, the pain in her head building to unbearable levels…

\--- 

“Enough,” Raubahn spoke up now, his voice soft, but a look of contempt on his face. “Since you had your eyes closed in your cowardice, I can give you a first-hand account of what happened. I was there, I was on the ground at Specula Imperators when the main tower was struck. It hit with such impact that the whole tower split apart and crashed to the ground. Hundreds of men on both sides were killed by falling debris, nothing to say about the hundreds of men - your men mostly - inside the tower who died on impact, or were smothered beneath the rubble. Truly a monstrous act. Yet you stand here and say you couldn’t watch because of a headache!? You can’t be serious!”

“It was war.” Fordola replied flatly, the emotion buried deep within, but feeling her head throb with the phantom pain she had felt that day. “There were no civilians in the area, just soldiers and combatants. I said it before, the mission of soldiers and…” she stole a look at the Warrior. “…even heroes, is to kill your nation's enemies, little more. The alliance did not advance for nearly a full day afterwards! That gave more time for the fortifications at Ala Mhigo to be prepared in full. I carried out my orders.”

“Your Crani Lupi were surrendering!” Lyse broke out here - standing and pointing a finger accusingly at Fordola, her cheeks flushed. “You murdered prisoners of war, your own people – do you not have any remorse for those you gathered and sacrificed!?”

“I would have expected the same if it was me at the tower, and any of my skulls in the fire control centre.” Fordola held her head high. “My troops were remarkable men. The Garleans lost Ala Mhigo because such men were kept at the bottom of the ranks.” 

She didn’t know they would surrender…but wait, she did, didn’t she know? If they had surrendered, would they now be sitting in the crowd behind her? Would Emelin be working in a soup kitchen? Ansfrid maybe a captain in the liberated Ala Mhigan army? No...no surely not, she dare not pursue that thought, it led to only madness.

“It was a deplorable act.” The seedseer added her two gil to the mix as Lyse slowly sat down, unwilling to speak further.

“Yet all rules are often silent in times of war.” Admiral Merlyb suddenly spoke up, shooting the seedseer a flat glance. “Would you condemn my pirates that sail under false Garlean flags to board and seize their merchant vessels? Slaying any that resist?”

“They are not comparable.” Lyse spoke up, the heat still in her voice. “These were meaningless deaths, despite what she might tell us!”

The admiral turned to the younger woman, fitting her with a flat gaze. “Good people, bad people, remarkable people are killed every day in meaningless ways, that’s war. The sins of war come down to that.”

“Let’s continue with the account.” Alphinaud implored Lyse directly, as the woman half stood up again, glaring at the admiral. “The hour is late, and we will have time to debate her prosecution after Fodola has completed her testimony.”

Lyse half opened her mouth, closed it and reluctantly sat down as Alphinaud turned back to Fordola. “The cannon was sabotaged shortly afterwards by an associate, Estinien. What was the reaction within the Castrum?”

“Chaos.” Fordola replied, her mind still elsewhere, the words flowing without conscious thought. “The cannon would have probably kept up firing but the ceruleum pipeline which fuelled the cannon was ruptured and led to widespread fires and chaos within the castrum.” Here she nodded at the Warrior again. “Probably helped your infiltration of the facility. I stayed up in the control tower. I knew you would come – how could you not with an invitation like that? When the alurm started blaring that intruders had entered the Castrum it was almost an anti-climax…”

\---

Fordola watched the Warrior of Light slaughter her way through the Garlean guards that stood in her way.

The Warrior was a poetry of violence, no blade or clumsy weapon being used this time. She fought as one of the martial monks of old, closing the distance on the hapless fools that stood in her way, crushing them with powerful blows. Armour proving hopeless in offering any protection to her infused limbs.

Fordola watched with interest, stoking her chin, as the last Garlean guardsman fell and a magitek unit shuffled into frame. Its two huge sawblades raised to slice the Warrior where she stood, normally capable of cutting down dozens of ordinary troops with ease. 

The woman darted forwards in a blur of energy, easily avoiding the clumsy saws and brought both hands together, a wave of pure white energy enveloped the magitek unit and the camera feed cut out.

“This is ridiculous!” Sevick quo Argos cursed under his breath next to her. “She’s well on her way to this control tower. The garrison guard is too dispersed with the fires still raging…she surely can’t reach us can she?”

“Oh, she will.” Fordola almost smiled as the Garlean adjutant in front of them started cycling through machina feeds, the grainy images on the view screen flickering past. She dimly acknowledged how her heart felt strangely lighter at the sight of her enemy, a welcome distraction from the crushing thoughts that occupied her skull.

“Intolerable.” Sevick leaned forwards, staring at the camera feeds as they rapidly changed. “Luckily we’ve got a magna roader magitek unit and a squad of the 12th legion before her. They’ll cut her off before she gets into the research holding pens…”

Fordola said nothing as the camera cycled to a large chamber. The Magna Roader was a horrendous Garlean contraption. A mechanised unit on three huge, spiked wheels, bristling with armour and weapons, backed by veteran 12th legion soldiers. Normally, they would represent a practically unstoppable force on any battlefield. 

The Warrior cut them down with ease.

Fordola felt herself actively warming, admiring the power and grace on display - she could almost understand the fascination Lord Zenos had with her. The raw power as she broke the machine with such energy...directed as it was through furious, powerful blows…

Fordola knew then that she had never stood a chance against the Eorzean hero as she had been…but as she was now…could she defeat her?

The Warrior vanished from the camera, leaving the charred pieces of the Magna Roader behind along with the bodies of numerous Garlean troops.

“Impossible…impossible…” Sevick muttered, as the adjutant resumed camera cycling.

Fordola leaned back, crossing her arms as she felt her foot tap impatiently. She watched as the camera cycled past identical containment units to the ones she had seen during her ‘enhancement’ and an idea came to her.

“Sevick.” She deliberately used the man's first name causing him to look at her sharply. “We have hypercharged experiments in there? Failed experiments – why not release them?”

“We can’t control them!” Sevick snapped back. “They no longer have any impulse save violence. Lord Aulus has them in suspended animation pending further trials. I will not release those monsters throughout the lab.”

“Do it.” Fordola gestured to the adjutant. “They may slow her down or even triumph.” A memory of her time with Aulus swept into her head. “And get Number XXIV to cut her off if she gets through them as well.”

Sevick opened his mouth and Fordola gazed at the man balefully. “Or must you question my orders a second time?”

The Garlean made a disgusted sound and grunted to the adjutant, who swiped switches and buttons and Fordola watched in satisfaction as caskets began opening and figures began emerging into the gloom.

They hardly slowed the Warrior – however Fordola had expected nothing less. _‘I could have turned out like tha_ _t_ ’ she thought, watching the mindless creatures, once humans with stable aether who had been ‘enriched’ and lost all control. Another husk of violence and madness. She owned what she was to Lord Zenos…

She watched Number XXIV, Lord Aulus’s finest experiment, battle the Warrior. He (or 'it') was disciplined, cunning and vicious. He conjured magick barriers in an effort to ward off the Warriors blows and for a moment it seemed Fordola’s resonant predecessor might succeed.

Then it was all over, and Number XXIV stumbled, delivered a mortal blow by the Warrior. 

Fordola’s breath caught in her throat. For just a moment, a split second, it was as if there were four figures on screen. Four Warriors. Three women of different sizes and forms and an Elzeen man wielding a spear.

Then Number XXIV was dead, fallen to the floor and there was one hero, one Hyur woman moving on.

“Did you see that!?” Fordola asked Sevick, her head suddenly throbbing. “Four figures?”

“What are you talking about?” Sevick snapped, his decorum slipping, his hand fidgeting with the sword at his side. Fordola could see the aether around him trembling. “It’s just the one person! Although I’m getting reports there are other intruders approaching the control tower from another direction, they’ll be here any moment!”

“Release any remaining experiments of Lord Aulus in her path.” Fordola walked away as Sevick placed the orders, a few more Garlean guards now arriving in the control room looking agitated and worried.

She ignored them, looking out of the main window at the view outside, the late morning sun was now beaming down on the base, not a cloud in the sky.

She strolled casually forwards, towards the console of another adjutant who was looking at a screen of complicated numbers and symbols. “Is the main cannon ready yet?” She asked quietly, so that Sevick could not hear.

“Almost commander,” the adjutant replied, not looking up from his work. “They’re just patching up the ceruluem pipeline, the last of the fires are also being extinguished.”

“Good,” Fordola nodded. It was far too late now – the Warrior would be here in moments and it sounded like the castrum would be lost in its entirety, ah well. She realized that suddenly...she didn't really care.

She leaned closer, over the man's shoulder. “Call down to the landing pad, I want my magitek flyer to take up station just under the main window of the tower outside.”

The adjutant offered a stiff nod, leaning over the console to grab a small receiver as Fordola strode away, back to Sevick who looked up at her aghast. “That…that woman just tore Nemesis apart with her bare hands! That experiment was supposed to be the spearhead we would use to retake the wall in our assault on Eorzea…”

“Compose yourself.” Fordola responded, feeling strangely calm. “You’re setting a bad example for your men.”

Sevick didn’t respond; probably didn't trust himself to respond and Fordola looked away, out of the window at the blue sky and the mountaintops of Abalathia’s Spine. They really were quite beautiful…

The doors behind her crashed open with a bang and she turned to face the Warrior of Light and companions.

There were a number of resistance fighters...she recognized Lyse - the blond woman from the reach garbed in red, loose garb befitting a martial artist. There were the two white haired youths from the reach (were they Elzeen? They had a most peculiar aether to them) and of course, 'Her'.

Garleans had hardly a haze of aether, the average Ala Mhigan or Eorzea, a swirl or a cloud about them. But the Champion of Eorzea radiated a golden light, a sun that overpowered her companions light that stood besides her. It was breathtaking and terrifying. 

“They’re here!” Fordola shouted unnecessarily to the others. The Garleans in the control tower were flotsam, Castrum Abania was truly beyond saving.

Strangely, it was Lyse, the Ala Mhigan that spoke up first, her eyes narrowed with all their attention, and anger, on Fordola. “It was you, wasn't it...wasn't it!?” She shouted, slowly advancing as Fordola felt her head suddenly spike with pain. 

_Flicker_ ,

_A steppe of_ _endless green, flags fluttering on the distance, companions at her side._ _Ahead, countless stars filled the heavens, twinking down on them_. _It was a moment of hope and belief that all present shared._

Fordola shook the vision and lingering emotions off, they had no place here. “Aye.” She spoke the words that condemned her, gritting her teeth at the sudden nausea from the vision that almost staggered her. “I gave the order to fire.”

“It was over!” Lyse practically shouted, her voice high, grating and accusing. “The skulls had surrendered! No one else had to die! You killed them! Your own people! Your own comrades!”

The pain in Fordola’s head was building to new heights. It was fierce, she staggered in place, hoping it was not telegraphing weakness, suddenly feeling a desperate need for a release of some sorts. Was this in response to the turbulent emotions of Lyse...or was it a reaction to the Warriors herself?

“You’re right, I killed them.” She whispered, panting slightly, a part of her unsure why she admitted it. “Ainsfrid, Hrudolf, Emelin, all the rest - trained and fought with every last one of them. Good soldiers to a man. I gave the order that led to their deaths...and I knew exactly what I was doing.”

“But why!?” The girl in red demanded, her fist clenching, her silvery aether swirling in agitation. “Why would you do that!?”

_What would you know about sacrifice and our cause?_ She thought, _the blood we shed together, our mission, our cause_?

“They died so that all Ala Mhigans could live free.” She instead replied, feeling the pulsing pain in her skull recede suddenly, able to now withdraw the hand at her skull - knowing the time for fighting was almost here. “That was all we ever wanted. We made a promise that we would do whatever it took so that one day...one day the imperials would learn to accept us. But everything comes at a price. And if you have’t got the means to pay, then you pay with blood.”

She wondered who she was speaking to, the imperials clustered around her, Lyse - her accuser, the Warrior of Light - or was there other souls darting around her - Ainsfrid, Hrudolf, Emelin and the others - were they watching her now?

“Service guarantees citizenship,” she continued, looking up at a flash of gold that swirled before her, “But citizenship guarantees naught. It's not enough to do your part, oh no. You have to run faster, fight harder, kill more and more and more - and only then will you be equal.” She levelled her eyes back on Lyse, daring her to strike, to fight. “That’s just how it is out here in the provinces. You buy your freedom with blood - there is no other way!”

“Shut up!” Lyse shouted back, riled by this declaration, fists clenched. “Shut your mouth! You don’t get to talk about freedom! You killed your own! They trusted you and you killed them! Murder! Butcher! Traitor!” 

With a blur, Lyse rushed at her and Fordola felt the energy within her own body surge, 

_Flicker,_

_Lyse smashed into her, driving her to the ground, pinning her flat. All the air in Fordola’s lungs knocked out of her in a moment. She was helpless...._

She pivoted back on her left foot as Lyse blitzed past her, close enough for the other woman’s hair to brush against Fordola’s face as she straightened casually, watching as Lyse staggered for a moment, re-balancing. Their eyes met and Fordola allowed a smirk to show. _Come on_ , she thought, itching to test herself, _come on_!

The other woman's aether swirled around her, a froth of raw emotions and rage hardly in control as,

_Flicker,_

_Lyse’s kicked out with all her energy and the blow crashed into Fordola’s stomach leaving her doubled up in agony..._

Concentrating on the swirling energy within her, Fordola kicked off the ground, back into the air as Lyse’s foot swung up, and around, striking only the air itself.

Fordola now had her back to the great window of the control tower and she watched as the Garleans led by Sevick quo Argos tried to rush the Warrior and her companions. She was distracted though, by Lyse again charging forwards, closing the distance with a barrage of fierce punches which seemed sluggish and slow to Fordola. She swayed in place, her head dodging each blow - almost taunting the girl to see what she would do now.

She offered her best answer, Fordola felt the flair of a warning in her head, saw the dim haze of red indicate the passage of blow and cartwheeled back to avoid Lyse as she spun around in a dazzling series of deadly, crashing kicks.

The devastating blows didn't even come close to connecting as Fordola opened up some space between them.

“Lyse!” A cry came from behind Fordola and she half turned her head to see a white haired girl slicing forwards with a thin crystal blade which,

_Flicker,_

_The thin blade wedged through Fordola’s chest, a stinging session of death gripped her..._

She kicked powerfully up, soaring through the air, away from the blade and landed close again to Lyse. The girl did’nt allow the opportunity to pass by, and drove at Fordola with a haymaker blow! Again, all too easily avoided - Fordola was almost enjoying this! The rush of combat, the focus - it cleared her mind, it gave her focus. There was only her, and the Empire’s enemies.

Again she leapt clear of Lyse, flipping over her white haired companion with the thin blade. Time seemed to flow slowly as Fordola glanced back at the entrance door, where the Warrior of Light was standing over the crumpled form of Sevick quo Argos. For a moment their eyes met and Fordola remembered Lord Zenos’s order...an invitation had to be extended, best to make it viciously.

As she landed behind the white haired girl she drew the gunblade with ease and sliced viciously up in a single motion.

The girl was good, no doubts there. She half darted back - but the blade cleanly caught her, throwing her back through the air, crashing to the ground near Lyse’s feet, a splash of red splattering the grey tiles. 

There was a moment of shocked silence as Fordola replaced the blade at her side. Elation and energy pulsed through her body as she grinned at the horrified Lyse, mocking her. “I know what you can do. I’ve already seen it.” Let them chew on that!

She heard an anguished cry from the white haired boy close to the Warrior of Light (a blood relation maybe?) as they darted forwards to stand next to Lyse. The boy tended to the fallen girl, green magicks flooding out of his hands and smothering her body but the Warrior stood alongside Lyse. Golden radiance spiking in the hymn of battle. 

There was a moment's silence again as the two stared down Fordola. She stood ready, but allowed her eyes to drift down, glancing outside the window, looking down - there! A slight shimmer of energy that betrayed the magitek flyer - just as hoped!

“Even so, the odds are against me…” She spoke aloud, playing for time - delaying the inevitable, how she longed to clash blows with them! First she would kill the red woman Lyse; then she would truly test herself against the Warrior - and triumph! But Lord Zenos had been clear in his orders, and in a life and death contest with the hero of Eorzea, she could not risk interference from the others now clustering forwards.

Without a moment's hesitation, she twisted a small smoke ball from her belt and dropped it. A cloud of thick smoke immediately covered her retreat as she charged at the main window, leaping through it in one motion - the fragile glass easily shattering. For a moment there was a dizzying moment of vertigo as she freefell several stories, but there! The flyer was hovering in place and she crashed onto the side of the small vehicle, catching hold of one of the wing engine pods and steadying herself as the startled pilot looked up at her, fighting to keep the flyer level.

“Ascend, now!!” She shouted, standing in position. “Level with the window, but keep a fair distance, do it now!”

The pilot complied, the rotors buzzed as the magitek unit rose up and level with the shattered window. The Warrior of Light and Lyse both stood there staring out, Fordola felt genuine pleasure at the look of befuddlement and confusion on both their faces! She had outplayed and outwitted them!

“Hero!!!” She shouted at the Warrior, ignoring Lyse completely like the bystander she was. “Lord Zenos invites you to join him for the royal hunt, to be hosted at the palace. You may bring your horde, if you like. All are welcome!” 

She tapped the pilots arm twice, the universal symbol for ‘up’ and the flyer rose, soaring into the sky.

“Back to Ala Mhigo!” She shouted over the wind to the pilot. “Get us out of here.”

The pilot nodded, swinging the little craft around Castrum Albania. Down below she could see Garleans and more insurgents fighting in the courtyard, Twelve be damned, there were a lot of them! Had they infiltrated the castrum from below somehow?

The flyer gained speed, spinning away from the lost base. As they retreated, Fordola caught a clear sight of Specula Imperatoris. The fallen spire, the black smoke still rising from it, fires clearly visible. The battle elation, the pulsing energy she had been granted - fled her in an instance, as she felt very real shame and sadness enter her. A deep, overwhelming bitterness seized her as she considered the raw loss she had herself instigated. For a moment, she relaxed her grip on the engine pod, a sudden madness making her want to leap from the craft, to fall to the earth, and lie with her friends...

The craft buckled and the motion jerked her brain and she automatically steadied herself against the engine again. Half without thinking, she pulled forth a small knife from her belt and with one swift strike, severed a large lock of hair from the back of her head. She held it up to the hair and released it on the wind, watching the locks blow back across the Peaks towards the fallen tower of Specula Imperatoris.

“Soldiers of the Crani Lupi!!!” She felt herself shout, voice suddenly hoarse. “I, Fordola rem Lupis, swear to you that your deaths are not in vain!! I will finish what we started! Your names will one day be spoken as heroes that gave their life for our cause! This I swear to you by all the Gods I swear it!!!” 

She watched as the tower slowly receded from view, but she could still smell the soot, feel the fires and hear the cries of wounded men far below. Even as the malms between them and the flyer increased, she felt as if she was there, her heart crushed beneath the iron tower of the outpost.

The last fragments of hair had now vanished from sight and Fordola leaned against the engine pod, hoping the pilot wouldn't look back to see the tears streaming freely down her face.

\---

“Fortunately the wound you gave my sister was quickly treated and she made a swift recovery.” Alphinaud spoke, his voice soft - but there was a hint of steel to the boy's voice.

Fordola managed not to let anything show, lost in the memories of the day. She also managed to stop a sudden apology that seemed to form on her lips. Instead, managing to twist her mouth into a grimace as she spoke. “I’m pleased to know the _neutral_ adjudicator’s sister survived. Twus not a blow made with a killing impression - it was simply an invitation, nothing more.” 

“Now you sound like Zenos.” Lyse tapped the table in irritation. “I find it hard to believe you showed any emotion at all. Were it not for more recent events, I would judge you as much a monster as he.”

Fordola felt her face flush at that, and half opened her mouth to retort but Alphinaud spoke up instead, a flicker of something irritated in that prim tone of his - maybe her jibe earlier had landed? “The purpose of this court is not to judge her emotional capacity. We are here to listen to her account and then pass judgement on her crimes.” He offered Lyse a meaningful look, before glancing up, for the late afternoons light had given way to the glorious, golden haze of late twilight.

“We will adjourn now for the night.” He clasped his hands together with a soft clap. “Tomorrow morning you will complete your telling of the siege of Ala Mhigo, where your mad prince lost his life and we will decide your sentence.”

A flicker in the boys aether confirmed what the Warrior had already told her - the mad prince was quite possibly still very much alive. Fordola felt a tiny shiver of fear at the implications.

“I am loath to repeat the circus of this morning with you publicly walking back the way you came.” Alphinaud continued. “The guards will take you via a back route through the palace gardens and through an underground passageway to the cells. We will summon you back tomorrow morning.” He beckoned for the nearest guard to come forwards, but then he (and probably everyone else) was surprised when the Warrior herself walked forwards, a hand outstretched to stop the approaching guardsman.

“No need Alphinaud.” She spoke, her voice clear and sweet. Her back to Fordola as she addressed the judges respectfully. “I will see her back to the cells. There is something I must...test her on, beforehand.”

Fordola spared a look at the judges. The seedseer was placid and unreadable as always. The admiral bristled to open her mouth and demand what it was, but held her tongue out of respect. Raubahn had lost interest and was already standing up, his mind elsewhere. Lyse was full of curiosity, but still too emotionally charged to think it through.

Alphinaud however allowed a confident smile to show and gestured his hero forwards. “Of course. Who better to watch over her then the one that conquered her?”

Sara Alexander, the Warrior of Light inclined her head slightly, and approached the lectern on which Fordola stood. Behind the crowded pews buzzed with a background mummer of the assembled people.

“Follow me.” Sara spoke softly, the woman's aether swirling around in a dazzling medley of patterns, her eyes and words just for Fordola. “Don’t cause a scene.”

Resisting the urge to say something snappish, but filled with a sudden intrigue. Fordola turned and walked down the steps to the floor, ignoring the crowd that was suddenly pulsed with violent energy. She followed the other woman towards the side door which she had used twice already, and out of the courtroom with the Warrior. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started and stopped this too many times! Between trying to describe Castrum Abania - and also having to follow the actual cut scene dialogue this one span in circles for ages! 
> 
> When i started this, I thought writing the sections directly from the events that took part in Stormblood would be the easiest parts to write - turned out to be quite the opposite! I’m looking forward to having another ‘non-cannon’ chapter next…
> 
> Hope everyone enjoyed the latest patch! I was hoping for a Fordola scene - but alas, not this time...not this time…I did’nt see too many lore implications in the patch (but where do all these weird and wonderful towers come from? They just pop out of the thin air? Did they have cloaking devices? Is *X* actually a master builder of some sorts? It will probably get handwaved off as ‘Allag’ tech again I guess!) Ah well, all in good fun - I’m just joking. 
> 
> Thank you for reading - time for a little 'non-cannon' break before returning to the 'climax'(??) of the fict.


	18. The Twilight Gardens

#  **The Twilight Gardens**

Fordola rem Lupis followed Sara Alexander, the Warrior of Light, down the quiet passageway out of the courtroom. Together, they walked past the holding cell where Fordola had been held briefly and they had talked twice this long day. They carried on, further into the back passageways of the building.

For a moment, Fordola enjoyed the quiet - the only sound being their respective footsteps padding on the hard, stone surface. The air felt fresher than in the courtroom; the darker light was welcome, and the absence of accusing eyes stabbing into her back - relieving. Like having a weight off her shoulders.

She was full-glad not to be walking the streets back to the city jail after the events of the morning. The crowds braying for blood, the woman with the hidden knife, the stone-faced city guard. It wasn’t the danger of violence – she had no fear of death or injury, but rather the shame. To see her life’s ambitions had brought her to this point, to this rock bottom. Although she had held her head up high hadn’t, she? She had...she was sure, Nevertheless she bitterly hoped her father could not see her from any afterlife - if it existed.

Now, as the sun set, Fordola was unable to shake the suspicion that she was being sneaked out by the backdoor…a stain on Ala Mhigo’s new republic to be whisked away. But what was the Warrior of Lights part in this? A test? Real or an excuse? She did not think the hero of Eorzea would be the sort to use such chicanery in a court of law so publicly.

Lost in her thoughts, she failed to notice the other woman had stopped. Fordola almost stumbled into the Warriors back - managing to stop gracelessly at the last second.

“Almost forgot,” Sara murmured and turned to face Fordola.

The Warrior of Light was a few ilms taller (a fact that galled Fordola for some reason), also slenderer and curvier in the right places other women would envy. Fordola still wondered what age she was. She seemed young, yet also old in some ways, curious - almost as curious as the complete lack of physical battle scars for one embroiled in conflict on a regular basis. 

“Hold out your hands,” Sara asked and Fordola dutifully raised her manacled hands for her inspection.

Sara examined the metal cuffs and with a look of disdain raised her right index finger. For a moment, Fordola saw the Warriors aether swirl into motion – and a small shimmering blade of white light appearing just before she sliced it down between Fordola’s hands.

The metal links fell to the ground with a loud clunk. Fordola took a half step backwards to avoid them falling on her toes, massaging her hands fiercely. After all the events of today, having her hands loose was one of the best sensations of the day.

“You sure about that?” She challenged Sara, looking the Warrior in the eyes. “Maybe I’ll try and run?”

Sara laughed musically, half raising her left hand to her mouth as the blade of energy vanished from the other. She turned to face their direction of travel, but favoured Fordola with a look back, complete with a slightly coquettish grin. “You’re welcome to try. Until then – keep up.”

Fordola managed to twist her lips to hide the grin. She was almost tempted to…but for now she followed.

They walked further, feet padding down abandoned hallways before coming to a bronze door, the old royal griffin mark on the handle half chipped off. Sara opened it and walked through, out into a desolate and cramped back alley. 

The backends of tall buildings flanked the alley on either side, casting it in sharp shadows from the soft golden sky above. Fordola stepped out, allowing the door to close smoothly behind her. Letting the smell of the city wash her, breathing in deeply – the cacophony of senses, people, food, refuse – the smells of any city. Her city. 

Sara allowed her a moment before gesturing her on, down the alley.

“Where are we?” Fordola asked as she trotted behind, speaking to the other woman's back while looking left and right at the tall buildings. “I don’t recognize this part of the city.”

“This is a back route that connects the law buildings with the royal palace.” Sara replied, as she led her around a corner, following the alley around a windowless building. “The royal family, or nobility up in the castle wanted a back route into the courthouse if it was ever needed – probably to avoid a public route.”

Fordola snorted; sounded about right. The old royal family of Ala Mhigo had taken ‘avoiding the public’ and the like very seriously.

Another corner in the shadows and they came to an iron gate blocking off the path, sandwiched between two tall, grim looking buildings. Sara pushed it open without any need to unlock it and they continued onwards.

“The palace is now on our left.” Sara continued as she kept a fast pace which Fordola matched. “The ministry of thought and order is the building on our right. It’s not been occupied since the years of King Theodoric but Lyse wants to reuse it as a city hospital.”

“Oh, I bet she does.” Fordola replied, cursing herself for the slight sneer she put on her tone. Why did she have to be like that? Some burning…lingering hatred or self-loathing in her breast answered the question though.

“Here,” Sara replied as they rounded a corner, and suddenly stepped out into the palace royal gardens.

The contrast from cramped alley, to lush open gardens was startling. The alley exited onto a discreet side of the royal palace gardens where it was almost certainly concealed from easy sight of the palace, shadowed by two imported eastern pine trees that towered over the entranceway.

The gardens beyond were beautiful beyond doubt, with exotic cherry, orange maple and yellow ginkgo trees breaking up soil beds, filled with flowers of a thousand exotic colours. Paving stones led around these trees and flower beds, with large grass greens providing spacing between the different exhibitions. Fordola had seen the gardens before, in passing – and on closer inspection she noted that the gardens looked...wilder and more uncared for now - if no less beautiful.

In the far distance, the gardens ended suddenly against a low carved wall that overlooked the massive valley at the ‘back’ of the city. She blinked at the golden light of the sun, dipping down towards the mountain peaks visible on the shimmering horizon.

Together, they slowly walked away from the gate, under the shade of the pine trees and into the gardens proper. To their left the palace towered above them, glittering columns, walls and domes reaching into the golden beyond. Flags of the new Ala Mhigan Republic flying at every grand window. Far in the distance, on a higher level would be the Royal Menagerie itself. Fordola could dimly make out the platforms in the hazy light far above.

“Are you coming?” The Warriors voice floated back to her and Fordola snapped her eyes down, watching the woman increasing her pace, walking freely across the grass - away from the palace and towards the wall at the end of the gardens.

After a moment’s hesitation, knowing this was not the way back to her cell, Fordola followed. She breathed in deeply as she walked – allowing the scent of flowers and grass to revitalize her further while focusing on the Warriors back. Her eye-catching white garb which she had worn all day gleaming brilliantly, impossibly clean. Between that - the sunset and the aetheric halo that blazed around her - the effect was...discombobulating to say the least.

For a few moments they walked; carefully stepping around a particularly large overgrown flower bed before Sara pulled up against the low wall. The wall itself was a graceful thing of sandstone moulded painstakingly into elegant arches that reached up to waist height. The Warrior leaned over it, breathing in the wind soaring up from the great valley below which playfully ruffled her short hair as a slight smile played on her mouth. Fordola drew level, not leaning on the wall and watching the other woman closely.

A moment of silence passed as the wind blew and the sun slowly continued its descent towards the distant mountains, “It's beautiful isn't it?” Sara questioned, keeping her gaze out towards the approaching mountain sunset.

Fordola looked out at the vast expanse before her, _what was this woman getting at_? She looked back the way they had walked, to the nearest flower bed. The twisted leaves, the coiling weeds and the stubborn flowers clinging skywards, “I guess…although the gardens have seen better days.” She gestured; her tone colder than she meant.

“True…it’s a bit like the city now,” Sara softly replied; still gazing out across the valley. “Wild and free. The people are able to grow however they want.”

“Hmmm…” Fordola pondered for a moment. Then, unable to resist taking the bait she gestured at the overgrown flower bed again. “It's not just the flowers that are wild and free - so are the weeds. Those that are strongest and able to pull down the others around them, rise to the top.”

“Aye, and so they are.” Sara allowed with a little, maybe even a sad, nod of the head.

Fordola allowed the silence to last a moment, watching the Warrior out of the corner of her eye, hoping she would say something. When she didn’t, she cleared her throat loudly, and moved alongside the wall, turning her body fully to the other woman.

“Is it so wrong, that under the Garleans every ‘flower’ had the same amount of soil, light and water to grow in?” Fordola gestured again, back at the mess of colours in the overgrown flower bed. “There were no weeds, and every flower, every citizen could live a full and healthy life. What does freedom offer except a chance for the strong and rich to get richer, and the weak and poor to get poorer?”

“Fordola.” Sara said softly, now looked at her calmly, without doubt. “Do you think the Garleans saw your people as ‘flowers’ worthy of the same soil, light and water as their own people?”

Fordola felt her fists clench, and then relax. “Maybe under Lord Gaius I would have replied yes…but afterwards, I’m not so sure…”

Sara offered a bitter sounding laugh. “Yes exactly, but I didn’t come here to talk politics with you.” She turned, leaning back against the wall with her arms, meeting Fordola’s eyes steadily. “But I have faith in Lyse and the new Ala Mhigan republic, I trust they will prove you wrong.”

Fordola grunted noncommittally at that, now turning to look out across the valley. “So, what did you come to talk to me about?”

“Your resonant abilities…your Echo, and mine.”

A gust of wind blew, as on the horizon the sun now kissed the peak of the tallest mountain. Fordola watched it for a moment, the way the shimmering heat haze played on the valley before turning back to Sara.

“What is there to say about your abilities!?” She demanded, feeling genuinely confused - even if her interest was piqued. “Whatever you have is strong, it sets you apart. The masses love you, the Garleans fear you - heck even that white haired kid at the table - Alphinaud, adores you for your ‘light’ as he sees it.” Fordola closed her mouth, her tone was starting to get bitter. _I am not jealous of this woman_ , she repeated mentally.

The Warrior chuckled, breaking eye contact and shifting round again to join her, looking out across the valley. “Well, we’ve been through a lot, Alphinaud and me. I admire him for his own light...you underestimate him Fordola, he’s stronger than you think.” She looked back at Fordola quizzically. “You’ve seen my own past; you’ve seen all the betrayals and challenges I’ve faced...what do you think is the difference between our abilities really?”

Fordola chuckled dryly at that. Now there was a question she had spent some time thinking about in the cells and she met the other woman’s gaze firmly. “Well, at the end of the day – I used my abilities to further what I believed to be just. But, having seen all the things you’ve done…” She paused, weighing her words up for a second. “The reality is...you just answer to a floating crystal or something - one of The Twelve maybe? Some of the Garleans described you simply as a religious fanatic, a pawn of some higher power. Maybe they aren't wrong?”

Sara looked startled at that, her veneer of control cracked, her look was sharp, lips pursing together. “I am no religious fanatic!”

“Oh please.” Fordola chuckled, feeling some enjoyment at the Warriors discomfort. “Giant floating crystals, blessings, hooded black figures to triumph over? Before the siege, I thought you were calling the shots - I thought you wielded great power as a champion of Eorzea, almost running the show from the shadows; but now I’m more doubtful. Maybe you are the one, knowingly or unknowingly being wielded by some other power beyond my understanding after all.”

Sara had regained her control, but her eyes were still flinty as she measured Fordola’s tone. “One of my friends a little over a year ago offered up her body to the Goddess you speak of, Hydaelyn. As Her voice, she spoke to me about the darkness that wants to devour this world and reduce it to nothing. If I can stop that, if I can fight against that - then I will with every fibre of my being and in the name of the Mothercrystal.”

Sara’s voice was passionate and Fordola broke the gaze. She had seen the Warriors memories, in a blur, and knew what she said to be true. She now looked away, out across the valley again at the halo of the sun around the peaks, “Then in this case, I hope you prove me wrong as well.” She spoke softly, some sixth sense of wrongness nagging at her here.

Sara seemed to deflate slightly and moved closer to Fordola, still leaning out across the wall, looking into the distance, her tone more measured. “There are beings Fordola, ‘Ascians’ they’re called - that control the cycle of violence on this star. Beings that hide in the shadows between worlds, plotting and scheming to their own end. They are the friends of nobody, their games are beyond our understanding and they seek the destruction of Hydaelyn knowing it will undo us all.”

Fordola said nothing, mulling over the words. She had also seen the flickers of these shadowy beings, clad in hoods and darkness. Playing in the affairs of others, toying with primals, killing and threatening the Warriors close companions. These Ascians were clearly beings to be weary of.

Sara sighed heavily and reached up a hand to idly tuck back some hair that had swept loose. “I’m sorry Fordola, we were supposed to be talking about our shared abilities...I want to help you, you could do a lot of good in the world. You could help us against the Ascians.”

Fordola laughed at that, it was a harsh dry sound “Aye, that would be rich. If they don’t hang me, it’ll be life in a cell for the rest of my life. It's what I deserve, for what I did to my Crani Lupi alone…”

“The alliance will not call for a death penalty.” Sara said firmly at that. “Alphinaud has already ruled out such a calling. Your resonant abilities share much of my own, you are resistant to a primal’s thrall, you can understand any language - you can sense and control aether to a similar extent of my own. You could do much good work with the Scions, if not directly against the Ascians then it could be through liaising with the beastmen, defending against primals and much more.”

Fordola shook her head, mind elsewhere, _Ansfrid and the others_... “The Ala Mhigan citizenry will want me to rot.” She spoke the words dutifully, although they weighed heavy. “I deserve to. My abilities are artificial, I can’t control them properly, Lord Zenos would have crushed me like a bug on that day of the siege - my abilities be damned.”

“You think I don’t doubt myself?” Sara murmured softly, joining her in watching the sun set. “Five years ago, I was just another foolhardy adventurer with some gil to my name and little else. Now I’m…” She stopped, and then sighed, “Never mind...maybe Fray is right…”

Fordola didn't say anything. She had seen the Warriors past and understood there was a strange kinship of sorts they shared, and despite everything - a part of her was grateful for that. “You mentioned a test...abilities and so forth.” She said, trying to bring the topic forward noticing the Warrior appeared to be mulling a sudden thought over.

“Yes…” Sara reached a hand to brush the same strand of hair back again, before glancing back at Fordola again. “You seem to have no recollection of the procedure Aulus carried out on you, but I saw it - flashes of other realities and other worlds. How the Echo, yours and mine is like a... conduit between realities. It gives us a sixth sense, a ripple (or ‘echo’ if you like) of similar realities to our own.”

Fordola scratched her arm absently, not looking at the Warrior. The back of her mind told her this was true, but the very idea of it also sounded like nonsense...still… “And what are you getting at?” She demanded, kicking a loose pebble out through a curve in the wall, watching it bounce down...down into the shadowy depths of the valley.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about this.” _Gods, she suddenly sounds excited_ , Fordola thought - like this thought had been gnawing her all day, waiting to be released. “You’ve felt it too, haven’t you?” The Warrior continued. “When you see the past, you're mentally there - projected if you like, into another worldline - it's a form of ‘astral projection’ if you like. I’ve never been able to control this ability, it’s just happened - but it's always shown me something I need to see, Hydaelyn herself guiding me.” She pointed a finger at Fordola’s forehead. “But you, you seem to be able to see the past or future, you have no specific control – but likewise you are not controlled like I am!”

Fordola was now feeling lost and she turned to lean against the wall, folding her arms. “Again...I really don’t think I’m following you here. How are you controlled exactly?”

Sara shrugged at that, “I always seem able to see just the right thing at just the right moment. There is an order to it; but your ability seems to strike at random, yes?” Fordola nodded, in fact – she was surprised not to have been struck with any strange visions of the Warriors' past while they had been together in the gardens.

“I think between the two of us we could...control our astral projection.” Sara actually bit her lip slightly at this, Fordola saw, there was a slight...’edge’ of some nervousness here. “If we link...we could use my raw power and your freedom to see, maybe even interact with the past or future freely!”

“How…?” Fordola tilted her head to one side. “You can never interact with the past or future, your memories aren't aware of me when I saw your past and I trust you’ve never spoken to an Echo before?”

“Together we can.” Sara smiled. “If we link, our joint abilities....I think it's possible that we could temporarily project into other worldlines, maybe even be seen and heard.”

“No chance.” Fordola almost laughed at this, but she was feeling a little unnerved at the Warriors ardour and use of the word ‘link’. “Can you hear yourself? Playing with realities and looking to interact with the past or future? Even I know these things are not for playing with! Just thank your Goddess or Mothercrystal or whatever, for granting you convenient knowledge when it's needed. You might as well be talking about time travel now.”

“It's not time travel!” Sara’s eyes were set and Fordola could feel the force of her will bearing down on her, willing Fordola to accept her point of view. “We would be interacting with other worldlines slightly out of sync with our own. They may have only minor differences - or they may have massive changes.”

“Or they might be an entirely different reality so far removed from our own that it's beyond our understanding!” Fordola remarked exasperated.

“It's worth trying!” Sara was determined, Fordola could see the Warriors jaw was set like it had been that day, inside the walls of Ala Mhigo. “I have to try.”

“Why!?” Fordola demanded, matching Sara’s urgent tone, “Why is this so important?”

“I need to speak with Hydaelyn.” Sara reached out at that, her warm hand closing around Fordola’s own on the wall. “You say I am a pawn of a higher power, but I disagree.” Her voice suddenly pleading. “Hydaelyn is weaker than you know Fordola, but she sustains us still. Her voice has not reached me in a long time. If we can use our abilities to reach Her, talk to Her...maybe I can find out what I’m here to do...how to stop the destruction of everything we hold dear, understand what the Ascians are trying to accomplish…”

Fordola looked down at the pale hand over her own, not trusting herself to meet the Warriors blazing eyes and Sara caught herself, letting go of Fordola’s hand and taking a step back. When she spoke again, her words were soft. “There are those I met who fell to protect me...perhaps there is a reality in which they survived…” She trailed off, looking down, her voice became gruff. “Help me and... I’ll speak on your behalf tomorrow in court, it's the least I could do.”

Fordola’s mind was a blur...but, part of her was thinking...maybe if they could do this...maybe she could see what would have happened to her Crani Lupi if she had not fired on them. Maybe she could ask for her own forgiveness...maybe… “Alright, let’s try.” She grunted; her heart still skittish, but a part of her wanted to test what the Warrior said. “It won’t work, but I don’t mind trying.”

Sara looked up at her and her face beamed with a radiance Fordola had not seen before. A funny emotion tugged at Fordola which she did not recognize… “But I don’t know how we would even try this, what you even mean by linking.” Fordola gruffly continued. “And I don’t doubt if I turned you down you would still speak up for me anyway - you’re that sort of person, even if I still don’t understand your reasons for it”

Sara looked abashed suddenly. “I’m sorry, I didn't mean to try and coerce you...that was unlike me.”

“It's forgotten.” Fordola replied, eager to move on and Sara smiled radiantly before moving away from the wall, back onto the grass - gesturing Fordola to follow.

“I’ve been studying, reading these past days and I think I know how we can try this...” Sara stopped, looking up at the sun whose last rays of light were poking over the mountains. “The palace of Ala Mhigo is actually built on a really strong source of the lifestream...coupled with the twilight hour...it gives us our best shot…” She knelt, folding her legs in and gesturing Fordola into place. “If you could kneel just in front of me.”

Fordola warily moved over and knelt on the soft grass, facing Sara...their knees almost touching. The sense of wrongness in Fordola’s head was building like a headache...something was off.

“I’ll feed you aether and provide the link itself,” Sara was saying, her eyes bright and hopefully. “With the lifestream beneath us, just drift towards the strongest source of power...we should naturally drift to the Mothercrystal herself.”

“Is that not…dangerous?” Fordola muttered reluctantly. She yearned to suddenly stand up, to pour cold water over this endeavour.

“I’ll anchor us,” Sara said confidently. “I’ve learnt much from E-Sumi-Yan, Y’mhitra and Jannequinard over the years.”

“If there are countless realities...how do you know we might not end up somewhere completely different?” Fordola asked uneasily, thinking of her earlier objections. “How do we even pull ourselves back?”

“Whenever I’ve come out of the Echo I’ve been drained of aether.” Sara nodded, as if she expected this next question. “We’ll return to our physical bodies where I’ll anchor us when I break the connection, or my aether runs out. So, if the projection lasts it shouldn't be for long and if we do land in any ‘wrong’ place, we should get a chance or two to try again. Although the process will require some fineness…I can’t just cut us off if that makes sense!”

She reached out with both her hands and took Fordola’s without hesitation. The intimacy was uncomfortable but Fordola didn't resist as Sara smiled reassuringly. “Close your eyes...allow us to drift…”

Somehow...for some reason, Fordola did as asked and allowed her mind to drift. For a moment, it was peaceful, she could feel the wind on her face, the warmth in her hands and the dying heat on her body. Then, a surge of power hit her, her skin goosefleshed as if she had been lowered into an ice-cold bath and she could feel Sara’s mind...pushing aether into her. It was like another mind, pushing raw energy, thought and power - like supercharged ceruleum into Fordola’s own thoughts.

“Relax…” Sara’s voice seemed distant, but soothing, even as she mentally continued to feed power through Fordola. It was deeply intimate, as their minds brushed - souls linking and entwinning. Fordola wanted to open her eyes but the sensation was otherworldly and overpowering, her eyelids remained clamped shut and she tasted something tangy and metallic in her mouth suddenly.

“Just drift.” The Warriors voice floated again before her and Fordola felt a sudden spark of annoyance cut into the peace and she opened her mouth to vent a sudden frustration. Just as she was about to, she felt an overpowering nausea, like the whole world had just turned upside down and a million shades of light suddenly filled her vision as she felt the ground sway beneath her…

_Flicker,_

_A blazing web way of lights, a million, billion bubbles of what was, what is and was yet to be enveloped around them. Flashes of moments flickered past on either side. For a split second Fordola felt her mind panic at the sheer overwhelming nature of it all. She tried to let herself drift, but it was impossible to not feel like her mind was being torn apart in the moment. She tried to ground herself, an image of Ala Mhigo, the palace gardens, the valley beyond the wall. The lights swirled and danced, impossible to describe and there was a flash!_

8.231309γ

And there was a sudden, powerful need to retch violently.

Fordola grasped at her head, it suddenly ached as bad as she’d ever known it. She was still kneeling in place, and she allowed a moment for the throbbing pain and nausea to lose their edge of surprise and for her to master the discomfort before slowly opening her eyes.

She was back in the palace gardens of Ala Mhigo, Sara was kneeling opposite her, eyes closed in concentration. The Warrior of Light had lines on her face and a single, perfect bead of sweat on her brow. Her aether swirled around her in agitation but otherwise she seemed fine, just still locked in a trance of some sorts.

Fordla opened her mouth, ready to laugh hysterically that after all that – nothing had happened! But before she could do so, she noticed something.

The grass beneath her was notably longer. It now rose above knee level, wild and itchy against her legs. She glanced back towards the nearby flowerbed and saw it entirely overgrown with weeds. Any colours or flowers had long since been choked out of existence.

The light was different as well...no golden sunset, the skies were blue with few clouds - the sun partly obscured but high above them - the middle of the day.

For the first time as well, she smelt a familiar smell on the air – it was the smell of smoke and burnt flesh.

Slowly, fighting against the nausea that surged back with a vengeance as her control slipped, she looked fully up at the palace of Ala Mhigo. 

The palace was there, the building identical in shape...but the outside of the structure had huge gorges that had been torn into it - as if a giant hand had ripped at the outer walls with ease. The whole far end of the palace, further away from them had seemingly collapsed into a mountain of rubble that covered the far end of the gardens away from them. Where the building stood in front of them, not only had it been gouged by some unimaginable force, but it was also charred with black burn marks. Every window was smashed, every flag torn down, the Royal Menagerie far above could not be seen through the smoke that covered the top half of the palace. 

“What could have caused this…” Fordola murmured aloud, feeling her voice crack as she gazed at it in disbelief. 

This had to be another worldline, a reality similar to their own…was it their future? A past? An alternative reality that could have been?

She spotted a flag, tattered and ruined, draped over the rubble. It was the flag of the Ala Mhigan republic, the flag that hung in the courthouse in which she had spent the day recounting her past. Was this a future that was yet to come then>

“Oh…my head…” She heard Sara’s voice, welcome in its familiarity as the Warrior slowly stood up, brushing herself down and looking around in mounting disbelief. 

“Is this what you wanted to see?” Fordola gestured angrily at the ruined palace. “Is this what your Mothercrystal wants us to see?”

“I don’t think so…” Sara looked over the building closely, even as she swayed slightly on the spot. “A vision of the future perhaps?” She looked along the gardens, seeing the fallen half of the palace and continued her turn, looked out towards the wide valley and far off mountains, and gasped. “What is that tower!?” Fordola turned, joining Sara in looking out into the distance.

Far away, beyond the great valley and at the base of the mountains, a terrible black tower stretched into the sky.

Its curved base reminded Fordola of ancient Mhachi architecture she had once studied - as if the tower had been grown, warped and twisted with some elderatic power. At the apex of the tower, a deep purple light emanated, before a great spike rose up into the sky. From this, a great blazing slash of throbbing, blazing red light swirled up into the sky. Pulses of energy could be plainly seen on a regular basis emitting from the tower and as Fordola took in the sight, she realised that the sky around the tower was occupied.

A massive shadow hung there, far above in the clouds it nestled near the beam of light that sliced up from the tower. 

If it was an airship, it was far, far larger than any Garlean craft Fordola had ever read about. Perhaps thrice the length of the Agrius, the largest ship ever built. The strange, floating object dominated the sky above the valley; crude, a boxy hulk seemingly malms in length, its exterior glistened grey, reflecting the sun's midday light.

As Fordola tried to take it all in, she noted the detail along the vessel's exterior. What had seemed a featureless grey hulk had twinkling lights of red, gold and blue here and there. Parts of the shape jutted out in odd shapes, small holes could be seen, parts of the shape seemed to be in motion, spinning on the base of the craft facing towards the strange tower. A bold orange line ran the base of the strange craft, the only obvious colour other than the mysterious lights. It ran almost uninterrupted, broken only in the middle by a blue circle studied with wavy green shapes within. 

“Some Garlean superweapon?” Sara asked Fordola, walking over to her - eyes blinking. “Is this something that will happen to us in the future?”

“How should I know!?” Fordola snapped back, her eyes still drawn to the huge construct as it hung there, defying gravity. It looked like the city of Ala Mhigo could fit within! “That's no Garlean construction though - not a chance!”

“And that tower…” Sara murmured, looking at the beam of light that blazed up into the sky. “A beacon of some sorts? Are the two things related?”

“Well there is no tower like that around Ala Mhigo.” Fordola muttered, her eyes twitching between the two alien constructions, although the tower now seemed small, rational and unimportant compared to the behemoth above it. “A tower of that nature wouldn't just ‘pop’ out of nowhere, it would take years to construct something like that - especially in plain view of the city!”

“I suppose…” Sara murmured, looking back at the devastated palace. “Still...some sort of battle took place here...a one-sided battle by the looks of it…”

“Let's hope this isn't a future we will encounter then.” Fordola said grimly, feeling her foot twitch impatiently. “Time to go.”

“Yes…” Sara agreed absently, still focussed on the far-off tower and... whatever floated above it. “Still,” Her eyes snapped back to Fordola. “It worked didn't it? We can see, feel, hear - interact with each other so let's try again. Close your eyes...focus.”

Fordola tried to control her breathing, refusing to look one more time at the destruction around her, the bizarre tower and mysterious floating object. She wanted to be gone from this place. She closed her eyes, and a moment later, she felt the familiar presence of Sara, the Warrior nestling mentally alongside her. Then the supercharged surge of aether, the metallic taste in her mouth again, the sudden sharp citrus smell filled her nostrils. Such strange, unnatural sensations filled her body.

“Focus…” Sara’s voice drifted over here. “Just drift…”

Fordola tried, but the bizarre architecture she had seen, to say nothing of the massive floating object pushed against her focus. She tried to disregard them...but as the surge of aether pushed against her will - she found the images fixed in her head. Sudden pinpricks of white hot pain suddenly forced their way through her skull and...

_Flicker,_

_Again, the blazing pinpricks of light. But this time, no drifting - it was almost like a smell, an impulse that drew her. The memory of what she had seen filled her still, she could hear the thumping noise of something (an engine?) the babble of a thousand strange voices (inside?) the metallic sound of boots striding down passageways (a ship that travelled the stars?). She mentally pushed, unaware really of what was happening, but something ‘clicked’ in her head and there was a blinding flash of light._

14.200099ϵ

Again, the powerful urge to retch, the strange smell of citrus steadily faded as Fordola opened her eyes readily. Dry coughs racked her body, but the nausea steadily started fading as the spiking headache also receded. The timescale for recovery seemed quicker this time.

She looked down and saw, not the grass of the Ala Mhigan palace gardens; but dry, brown, cracked and lifeless dirt. She could smell...metal, not citrus. Metal, rust and... decay.

She looked up. The skies were grey and covered in thick, voluminous clouds that stretched from horizon to horizon. What little light shone through was tepid and weak. The atmosphere felt thick, oppressive and pregnant with foreboding.

She felt a warm hand on her shoulder and flinched suddenly, before seeing Sara standing over her, the warm blaze of aether welcoming - despite the concerned look on her face. “Are you alright Fordola?” She asked, removing her hand.

“I...think so.” Fordola gasped, pushing herself off the dead ground and coming to her feet unsteadily. “Where are we?”

“I don’t know…” The Warrior of Light admitted, looking around, clear confusion etched on her face. “Hydaelyn isn't here though...this world seems dead…it can’t be ours…can it?”

Fordola felt inclined to agree with the other woman. They stood amongst mountains of rusted debris, struts and girders that rose into the sky - twisting and black scarred like ancient skeletal hands growing out of the ground. There were tall buildings though, gutted and scarred that rose up into the overcast sky. Each building rose as high as the tallest building in Ala Mhigo, their construction and appearance was deeply alien - the bases of every building strewn with more rubble and blocks of grey stone.

Between the standing buildings and the fallen one was dead earth scarred with craters, scorch marks and littered with large boxlike contraptions that rusted away along the sides of the ruined buildings. The air itself tasted hot...metallic, like they were within a Garlean metalworks of some sorts, it almost tasted of cerelum. 

“I told you!” Fordola snapped angrily to the Warrior who had her eyes half closed, as if trying to listen to the reedy wind. “I told you this was a fool's errand but I went along for reasons only The Twelve probably know why!” She kicked a piece of charred rubbish at her feet and it skipped across the dusty surface, clanging against more debris as it skittered to a halt.

“I’m sorry Fordola.” Sara’s voice was suitably chastised as she came closer. “The direction of travel is controlled by you...and I should have guessed it would go like this. Wherever we are, it's only in passing.”

Fordola shivered, suddenly wishing she had a sword in this strange dead world. “Well, whatever dead reality this is, I think we should leave - how do we go back?”

“It may not be as dead as you might think…” Sara murmured; her eyes fixed into the distance. “Can you see the lights over there...perhaps civilisation?” 

Fordola turned, looking the way that the Warrior was. Between two trashed buildings that had collapsed into each other (forming a decaying metal arch a malm high) there were indeed lights on the horizon. The dead ground stretched away - until far in the distance, a huge black line swiped across the sky. It was like the time she had seen Baelsar’s Wall on the horizon, except this wall (if that was what it was) dwarfed it in height. Atop this structure, lights could be seen twinkling - and the base of the brooding clouds seemed to be reflecting lights of white, blue and other hues. Perhaps some incomprehensible civilisation lurked within?

“I am not walking there.” Fordola remarked flatly, moving to stand between the Warriors gaze and the arch through which they looked.

Sara turned her eyes away from the sight to Fordola and nodded slowly. “Agreed, it's many malms away anyway. Let’s not give up yet, we’ll repeat the process - let your mind drift and I will supply you with aether.”

“Anything to get out of here.” Fordola grumbled, shutting her eyes and waiting. There was a low hum on the air, an artificial rasping and she tapped her foot impatiently, opening her eyes a moment later. “What's wrong?” She asked, noting the Warrior was looking over her shoulder, back towards the lights in the distance.

“Somethings coming this way...” Sara replied and Fordola turned.

A bright, white light was cutting through the shadows towards them, the raspy rumbling getting louder and louder. Fordola watched as the light closed at great speed, passing under the arch of the ruined structures, coming more into view.

It was some sort of...magitek-like vehicle. Similar in size to a Garlean magna roader, with a similar, rumbling noise. A huge figure sat astride the vehicle, almost impossible to make out in the glare of the light on them, which pulsed out from the front of the vehicle. 

The vehicle sliced in front of them, crunching to a halt a dozen yalms away from them. A second later the unearthly rumbling died away and the figure swiftly dismounted, turning to face them.

Whoever, whatever, this thing was, it was similar in proportions to a hyur - but much taller and of a thicker build. The figure was two heads taller than Sara, clad in black, gleaming armour of some sorts ending in dark green armoured gloves and tall boots. The most dramatic feature were the huge golden shoulder pads - one which was in the shape of a bird, akin to an Ala Mhigan griffin. The figure's head was partly hidden by a red and gold helmet which left an unmistakable male mouth and chin visible. Even in another reality, the large weapon that had appeared in one gauntleted hand was unmistakably some sort of weapon. It had none of the curves of a Garlean revolver, rather it was stark, boxy and utilitarian - far more imposing without knowing exactly what its capabilities were.

“YOU THERE!” A deep male, booming voice reached out at the two women, perfectly understandable - thanks to the Echo? Fordola wondered. “Identify yourself!” The figure stepped forward, an unmistakable, carefully controlled movement of aggression and violence.

Sara held out her hands in a universal gesture of peace, while Fordola found herself wishing the Warrior had any form of weapon out and ready instead. Whoever this figure was, his voice carried no emotion - only raw - dominating power. She kept her eyes on this stranger - not the slightest hint of aether could be seen. Her eyes were instead drawn to the large, strangely gaudy - golden griffin badge on the figure's chest. The word ‘GUTHRIE’ was written in large, embossed letters. 

The hyur (if that's what he was?) had now drawn up to them, two heads taller than Sara and he lowered his weapon somewhat, helmet cocked as he looked over the two of them. “You citizens out here scavenging?” The voice was flat and emotionless. “You’re not exactly dressed for the Radlands.”

“We’re...not from around here.” Sara spoke up and the man’s helmet twitched to her, then over Fordola – assessing them.

“I can see that.” The response was clipped as his free hand dipped to a gaudy, large golden belt, touching something. “Control, two possible futsies just outside city limits - send a catch wagon to my coordinates.” He then paused, the helmet twitching over the two women again before speaking again to thin air, some sort of linkpearl maybe? “Also, notify Psi, could be something out of Tech21, possible helter skelter fallout…”

Fordola felt a surge of aether suddenly hit her again, she gasped, and her eyes twitched to Sara who was looking at her with a fixed gaze. Realising, Fordola tried to clear her mind even as the strange figure stopped talking and looked back at them. She closed her eyes, feeling the aether push through her, she tried to fix her mind on Ala Mhigo, to picture the palace...and a million lines again streaked her vision, 

_Flicker,_

_This time, she didn't hesitate, she pushed for familiarity, for home - for Ala Mhigo. The light flexed, it swirled, a million sensations and thoughts drove at her. She suddenly felt exhaustion, or something like it, pull at her and the light flickered. A blackness suddenly crept around her - it pulled her towards it, gravity shifted, and she fell towards it. She was unwilling, she fought against it – but it was like being dropped in a lake without knowing how to swim and she drowned in the darkness that reached up around her._   
  


8.136309γ

The dizziness and fatigue faded even swifter this time - for the first time Fordola realised her head didn't ache with pain and cautiously opened her eyes.

She was standing on a black, crystalline surface which shimmered and sparkled beneath her. It looked organic, like it was alive and seemed to pulsate slightly, the stone warping in and out gently beneath her feet.

Slowly she looked up and around, spotting Sara still bent over, holding her head. The skies overhead were rolling, boiling clouds of purple and black. Sparking bolts of energy crackled high up there in a maelstrom of energy. Wherever they were, there was no sky, no sun, no horizon, - no obvious signs of any life. They were in a void, somewhere...different.

The ground on which she stood extended around them and abruptly ended. Falling away into the blackness beyond. Around them, Individual pillars of black obelisk stabbed up like fingers to head height. The tops of each obelisk were like a small platform, on which an elaborately carved sculpture could be seen – formed out of fine white crystal. 

Fordola heard a groan and saw the Warrior getting to her feet, still holding her head. While Fordola felt no obvious discomfort, the Warrior seemed to be in quite the obvious pain. While the jumps had got easier for Fordola, they seemed to have gotten harder for Sara.

“Are you alright?” Fordola asked, noting the other woman’s pale complexion - she was relieved when the Warrior favoured her with a wan smile. 

“I think that's just about it for our aether jumping...where are we?” Her voice sounded weaker as well - her aether which was normally so vibrant and colourful seemed dull and faded. Or was that something to do with their strange surroundings - that thought suddenly presented itself to Fordola and wouldn't leave...

“I was hoping you would tell me.” She grunted instead, looking around at the bizarre structures around them - twelve in total, that nearly surrounded them.

However, in the break between the platforms there was...an obelisk of some elderick design. A massive crystalline structure was erected, it glowed a deep, royal purple and throbbed with powerful energies - wisps of energy crackled along its length. Fordola had a distinct feeling she had seen a similar colour, a similar design in the strange tower she had seen in the first vision of Ala Mhigo.

“Is this your...Mothercrystal???” Fordola glanced back at the Warrior, but she thought she already knew the answer as Sara took a half step forward, a frown set on her face...or was that worry?

“No…but I’ve seen this somewhere before…”

“Well, well, well!” A deep, male voice suddenly boomed out, “What have we here?”

Fordola and Sara turned to their right, looking up. Atop one of the black obelisks, standing before the white sculpture was a man concealed beneath a voluminous black robes complete with a large hood concealing any face in shadows.

Fordola gazed at him, the voice was strangely familiar but whoever he was practically shimmered with a strange, malevolent black energy that swirled around him. She felt a sudden stab of fear to the core to the very core of her being. _Ascian_ , the memory of what the Warrior had said came to her suddenly.

“Elidibus said you were prospering.” The voice continued, the tone which spoke powerful, confident and condescending. “But to see you here - in the rift itself? Quite astonishing I assure you…” The hood twitched right slightly and Fordola felt the full weight of this being focused suddenly on her. “Ah...so that's how you did it...interesting. Yes, most interesting! I must say, I didn't expect to run into you again...I think I preferred you in the dress from back then.” 

“Ascian!!” Sara shouted, and Fordola saw the Warrior of Lights fists had balled. “Where is this place?”

“Are you saying, you didn't mean to come here?” The Ascian’s tone was mocking, contempt now dripped off his words as he paced atop his platform. “So, this is just a happy experiment gone wrong is it? My, my, my...how very embarrassing.”

The figure took a step off into the air beyond his platform and slowly floated down to the ground level, now a dozen paces from Fordola and Sara. For a split moment, Fordola caught a glimpse under the hood - a red glowing glyph hiding any features behind it. 

Sara stepped in front of Fordola and raised an arm, a blade of pure light suddenly extended out a good yalm in length. It shimmered, precious and bright in the dark surroundings and Fordola watched as the Ascian stopped and spread his arms wide in a mocking gesture. 

“Oh please, don’t waste what precious little of your energy remains.” The Ascian chuckled, a deep, melodic sound that seemed to echo around them. “You’re come into the heart of our domain, where Mitron, Igeyorhm, Pashtarot, Emmerololth - my brothers and sisters have debated matters you can’t even begin to comprehend…how fortuitous I should return on a whim and catch you here…”

Sara remained standing in front of Fordola but the blade of light wavered suddenly, like a candle caught in a sudden breeze. The Ascian took a step forward, and dismissively waved a hand at the Warrior. A shooing, dismissive gesture. There was a loud CRACK and the blade of light vanished, a second CRACK and the Warrior of Lights hands swiped down to her sides and Fordola watched as she struggled against an black coils of aether that were now binding her limbs together.

“Since you have done the courtesy of coming to me, drained and beyond the limits of Her reach....” The Ascian continued, slowly walking forwards towards Sara as she struggled against her invisible bindings. “I think I’ll cut whatever tether you’ve established and leave your soul to drift forever on the currents of time...yes that would be quite poetic I think.”

Fordola watched as the hooded figure raised a hand slowly in the air before the struggling Warrior who was held in place, she had to do something! Forgoing subtlety, she rushed forwards, tensing her muscles and pushing off with a kick aimed squarely at the head concealed beneath the hood.

The Ascian flickered as her foot made contact, it was as if her leg had suddenly been plunged into water. A blazing sigil of white and red runes appeared between them, some shield beyond her understanding. There was a shadow of movement and the Ascian vanished in a puff of black aether, reappearing a second later a few paces away from Fordola and Sara.

“Oh bravo, I forgot about you.” The Ascian clapped sarcastically, tone dripping with dry humour. Again, Fordola had that sense of déjà vu. She had heard this voice before; she was sure of it! “In fact, I was quite content to let you float back to the Source. It would have been worth it to see you try and explain this all to her companions...ah well…”

He raised his hand at Fordola and she poised to leap forward at the figure again, ignoring the agonising look Sara had on her face as she struggled against her bindings! She had no chance against this creature, but she had to try!

Suddenly, a violent slash of black energy surged past Fordola’s side striking towards the Ascian in a froth of power. The hooded figure lowered his hand, intercepting the slash of energy. For a moment the Ascians white and red glyph surged, the air crackling with energy and then it was over. The energy absorbed, the Ascian lowered his hand, his hood turning back to the Warrior and taking a half step back.

Fordola turned also. Sara was still bound in place but her eyes were half closed, a third figure stood next to her. Shimmering, ethereal and surrounded by a blue/black halo of aether that crackled unstably around them. The figure wore dark Ishgardian chivalric armour trimmed with blue, a full helmet leaving slits for white, unnatural eyes. A huge, double handed claymore held casually in one metal gauntlet lent over one shoulder. Fordola recognised this figure as well…

“My, my, quite a party in your head I see.” The Ascian made a mocking bow to the armoured figure. “You’ve brought an interloper along...fascinating.”

The stranger brought forth their mighty claymore as if it weighed nothing and pointed it at the Ascian. The sword glowed with energy and then suddenly another wave of black energy pulsed out at the Ascian. This time, the Ascian brought up both robed hands to meet the blast, the red glyph shield expanded and there was a crash as the energies smashed together. 

Fordola stared as the stranger turned a helmeted face towards her, the eyes she had thought were white glowed a malevolent red, a reedy voice suddenly rattled forth, “Go back!!!”

Fordola felt ‘something’ twinge deep in her mind, her vision blurred. She had a split second of seeing the Ascian moving slowly forward, batting aside the energy beam with ease, and then everything swam, and the nausea suddenly overpowered her - she fell to her knees.

_Flicker._

_Spinning, blurring, falling, cascading past a million bubbles of realities past, present and yet to be. She hardly noticed them, she fled - or was projected - back to the palace gardens, where her body knelt facing the Warrior of Light. The last light of sunset falling on them...she could smell the familiar smells of her city, she breathed in and..._

Fordola opened her eyes. She was back in the palace gardens, kneeling on the grass with Sara opposite her. The Warriors eyes flickered and opened, and she slumped to one side, an arm reaching out into the grass to steady herself. Her normally brilliant aetheric halo flickering dimly as if a reflection of her exhausted state.

Fordola prodded her own head experimentally, there was some throbbing, some discomfort but overall - she felt surprisingly well considering what they had gone through! She glanced over to the far-off mountains; no mysterious tower, no gargantuan floating object, just the last rays of the sun edging out of view. Hardly any time had seemed to of passed it seemed.

“You’re a bloody fool.” The reedy voice again, Fordola turned, coming to her feet to behold the armoured stranger standing a few paces away.

The stranger's outline was even more indistinct and hazy, the arms wavered in and out of existence and the white eyes that moved from Sara to Fordola were slowly fading away with the last rays of light.

The reedy voice spoke to her, not the Warrior. “Don’t let me do that again.” It spoke, the voice distant, sexless and devoid of emotion.

There was a rustle on the wind and the stranger sighed suddenly and their form faded away entirely, seeming to drift for a moment on the slight breeze. 

The sun had dipped behind the mountain fully now, and the light faded from the gardens into dusk. Sara was struggling to her feet and Fordola reached out to grasp the Warrior and lift - surprised at how light the woman felt, “Was that…?”

“Fray…” Sara murmured softly, looking past Fordola, at where the aspect had vanished.

“That was...her, him, it?” Fordola breathed heavily at the implication, “A part of you?”

“Maybe more than that.” Sara admitted, breathing heavily, leaning over slightly for balance, talking to the ground. “I think Fray saved us there, that Ascian...we fell right into his lap. Gods I was so stupid...careless...”

“Well so much for talking to your Goddess.” Fordola rubbed her head, feeling a bit awkward. That had not been a pleasant experience, but she was having difficulty recalling the exact events...it was like waking from a dream and trying to grasp at the memories. The brain knows it doesn't need to hold onto dreams, they’re irrelevant, misleading and unhelpful - was it the same here? “Can’t say I’m in a rush to try that again…” She spoke instead of voicing this sudden thought to the Warrior.

“No…” Sara nodded, looking sad. “I think...perhaps best if we don’t, at least for now - we should continue back to your night quarters.” 

_You mean, my cold dark cell_ , Fordola thought. For a moment, she looked at the Warrior. She was tired - perhaps more deeply fatigued then she ever had been. Meanwhile Fordola felt largely invigorated, headache be damned - they were alone in the palace gardens...would she ever get another opportunity like this? She tensed. 

“But thank you Fordola.” Sara looked at her and offered a weak smile. “You didn't have to help me...I promise I’ll help you in return. You know – there’s a part of you that reminds me of someone?”

Fordola held the energy within her, stealing a slight glance around the gardens, the gathering gloom - the lack of people around. “Oh aye?” She asked casually, her mind flickering through the possibilities. “Who might that be?”

“There was a... friend I meant once, he was called G’raha…” Sara spoke wistfully now, looking back towards the dark mountain silhouettes. “He burned so bright, shared his abilities freely and did what he viewed to be right. He sealed himself away in the Crystal Tower in the name of what he said was right.”

_Flicker, a red haired miqo’te stood with his back to her as the doors slammed shut._

Fordola flinched, without clear reason - remembering the figure from the blizzard of memories she had seen in the Warriors heart. “I’m nothing like him...you’re talking nonsense…”

Sara laughed, it was a sad laugh and she turned to look at Fordola and smiled wanly. “I’m sorry Fordola, he’s one of too many that I’ll never see again...I made you do what you did to try and honour their memories and continue...for those that we have lost.”

_Flicker, a blazing fountain of power, a staff clasped between his arm and hers._

She felt nausea strike her as the strange vision of light washed over her. Any tension in her body bled away and she swayed for a moment. Sara took a half step towards her in concern and Fordola waved her away with an arm.

“Stop! Let’s just...let’s just leave this place.” She muttered, turning away from the Warrior, back towards the palace wondering which was the way out.

Sara came forwards and Fordola flinched as a cool hand rested on her back, “Did you see something?”

“Mayhaps.” Fordola shrugged the hand off and took a step away, turning to meet the Warriors eyes. “Perhaps...some goodbyes aren’t forever; you might see him again.”

Startlement registered in Sara’s eyes for a moment, but then Fordola turned and walked towards the palace. Through the dark, hoping that the Warrior would speedily follow and point the right way forwards.

\---

Later, long after they had reached her cell on the other side of the city, Fordola tossed and turned on the hard bench that made up the entirety of the cell's furniture. 

Sleep was unrequired since she had ‘changed’ and become a resonant, so it gave her ample time to think.

What had they seen together? 

_A ruined Ala Mhigan palace? A strange tower and a huge ship in the sky..._

_A future world of ruin? Patrolled by strange men riding magitek vehicles..._

_A world of shadows? Where the mysterious Ascians, the enemies of the Warrior of Light dwelt…_

Fordola mused over these strange visions. Trying to remember the detail of each encounter but failing to remember much.

Was there a message in any of these? Was it providence or accident that had allowed them to see these places?

She tried to close her eyes - to pass some facade of rest. Tomorrow she had to finish her account - the fall of Ala Mhigo and the passing of her judgement. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy 2021 to everyone, may it be a better year for all of us compared to 2020!
> 
> Yes, I'm sequel baiting myself a bit - but its fanfiction - so I wanted to have a bit of fun after all :P
> 
> Only a few more chapters left to go, thank you for reading - I hope you enjoyed!


	19. The Second Day

#  **The Second Day**

  
  
They came for her before dawn.

Fordola heard the sound of footsteps, the clinking of armour and tensed, twisting uncomfortably on the hard bench to see, not the expected city guards, but a familiar face.

Arenvald Lentinus was tall, even by highlander standards, with light blond hair and proud green eyes. His broad earnest face half covered by a thick slash of bold white warpaint that crossed his nose.

Despite his size, the full plate silver armour, and the polished sword at his side - the man radiated a soft, earnest energy. It was matched by the powerful swirls of gold and ruby aether that swirled around him; energy far more potent than most people - even if it paled next to the Warrior of Light.

She could see he was holding a tray and fumbling to open the cell door with his free hand. When it finally clicked open, he stooped slightly to move in, the door shutting noisily behind. He noticed for the first time, Fordola’s eyes watching him like a hawk and offered an abashed smile. Saying nothing, he presented the tray towards her on which a large beaker of water rested, alongside a tray of flatbread with two fried puk eggs on the side.

She slowly sat up, taking the tray offered as he backed up a step away. “I’ve got to be quick Fordola.” His deep-toned, mellow voice curiously soft for a man of his size. “The guard will be moving you to the courthouse early, hoping to avoid the scenes of yesterday I suspect.”

She grunted an affirmation, wolfing down the flatbread - still warm and fresh, before picking the fried eggs whole with her hands and cramming them down. Arenvald watched, a slight smile on his face which she ignored, focusing on eating.

The man had an...interest in her, she knew that. If he was hoping she would reward this attention by pouring out her heart then he would be most disappointed.

“I’m sorry I couldn't be there yesterday.” He continued, shifting from foot to foot awkwardly. “We’re still excavating the treasures from the Drowned City of Skalla, and the Scions are running guard duty of the efforts. Between that and the late night guard duty of the city duma last night - I’ve not had a spare moment.”

She grunted a second time, finishing off the last of the bread before washing it down with the crisp, clean water.

“You’re not planning on doing anything stupid today, are you?” He asked, giving the cell door another quick glance to check they remained alone.

Fordola favoured him with a piercing stare before carefully placing the tray down on the floor and stretching her back. “Such as?” She asked finally, hoping the right amount of dry irony was in her voice.

“You said to me, before the trial - that your death would unite Ala Mhigo.” He broke the eye contact, looking up at the dank cell ceiling above awkwardly. “Do you still believe that?”

“Yes.” She said flatly. “It's also what I deserve.”

“Because of the things you’ve done?” He looked back down at her now, face neutral but voice slightly challenging.

“That and more.” She stood up and stretched slightly, her head coming up to Arenvalds chest, before pointing at his sword buckled to his belt. “Ala Mhigo needs to purge itself of the past if it is to have a fresh start. I am held responsible, I should be condemned and punished to the letter of the law.”

Arenvald frowned, causing the warpaint that covered his face to crinkle in an odd shape, revealing the puckered scar that hid beneath it. “You know Fordola - I have some of the Echo abilities you and the Warrior of Light have. I know, better than most, the good you could do with it to redeem yourself - to give back more to the city in life, then you ever could in death!”

“Have you been conspiring with your hero?” Fordola angrily asked him, she would not be pitied, not after yesterday. “Did she come to you? Did she put you up to this?”

“No!” Arenvald looked startled at the suggestion, eyes wide. “Not at all! Why do you not see the path to redemption? Your path would be long and hard, but so much better than a quick, senseless death!”

“My death is just!” Fordola shouted at the man, surprised at the heat in voice. “I deserve it for the things I did and the blood on my hands, the blood of my fellow Ala Mhigans!” _For Ansfrid and the others,_ she thought, but did not speak the thoughts aloud.

Arenvald surprised her by raising his own voice, matching her tone. “I’m Ala Mhigan as well in case you forgot! Born after my mother was raped by a Garlean man during the invasion! On my tenth nameday my mother thought I was growing a Garlean third eye and took a knife to me!!” He indicated the scar across his head beneath the white paint. 

“What does wishing more violence on her for wronging me, or for the Garlean that raped her give me?” He continued, pacing in a circle around the small cell. “I could have spent my life wishing vengeance on those that wronged me - but I joined the Scions, I was trained by people that gave their lives to defend me and I will forever spend my life helping and supporting people. Rather than just seeking violence and death on those that wronged me!”

“So what?” Fordola asked without thinking, not really following his tangent and Arenvald paused as if she had struck him. For a moment she felt a bizarre need to follow up with an apology, but she held off as he pondered for a moment.

Then a strange little smile twitched at his lips, that was unexpected. “Well what argument, eloquence or rhetoric can stand a chance against those simple words? ‘So what’ indeed.” He mused thoughtfully.

She exhaled loudly in exasperation, almost wishing the guards would appear to take her to the courtroom. “Arenvald I…”

“No, it’s okay.” He held up a hand to stop her, the annoying smile was back - it rankled to her as one of smug superiority. “You think only death can pay for your actions? I say, ‘so what?’ Does the thought of death give you peace? Does it help undo the crimes of the Crani Lupi – and let’s be clear, there are crimes to pay for – so what? Here I am, saying you could use your abilities, your power to make a real difference, but as you say – so what?”

He put a slight bitter sting into the last few words and Fordola felt the anger deflate within her and she sighed, shrugging broadly. “It is too late for me Arenvald.”

“It's never too late Fordola.” He held her eyes a second longer than was necessary and she felt the weight of his emotion there. A fleeting image of his hopes and dreams flickered before her and she ignored them. What he wanted, she would not, and could not return.

The sound of footsteps outside thankfully broke the moment and she looked up as the cell door opened and two city guardsmen walked in – short spears at the ready.

She sighed, holding out her hands as Arenvald stepped aside to allow her hands to be bound by one of the guards. It looked like another dozen or so guardsmen stood waiting outside the cell.

“Move.” The guard who had applied the metal bindings gestured to the cell door and Fordola walked towards it. As she walked past Arenvald she looked up at him and offered him a thin smile.

“Liberty or death, right?” The guard whisked her away before Arenvald could reply.

\---

The trip to the courthouse was quietly uneventful. The streets were quiet and the sun’s hazy light only just creeping over Abalathia’s Spine in the far horizon.

A further dozen or so guards had been waiting outside the cell block as a whole and the large group marched quickly towards the royal quarter of the city near the palace.

A few Ala Mhigans were up and about, but other than startled looks and muttered curses, the procession managed to avoid unwanted attention. Fordola walked evenly, enjoying the fresh air and peace while it lasted.

After a short while they entered the royal quarter and the palace steps loomed before them, the ornate courthouse building near the base of them.

Through the great double doors into the interior they walked. The building was empty and cool as the morning sun had not yet penetrated the high windows. The courthouse echoed to the footsteps of the group. The judges table set at the end of the room, the proud flag of Ala Mhigo still fluttering above. The five, straight backed chairs looked strange and alien without the judges occupying them.

“This way scum.” The guard gestured to the left wall, the same door she had exited through the other night. She allowed herself to be led through it and back to her familiar holding room. She was shoved in, and the door shut before a key turned.

How much time passed then, she didn't really know. But as it did, she could start to faintly pick up the sounds of the people coming into the courthouse. The scrape of chairs being pulled back, voices raised in discussion, the double doors opening and shutting.

Eventually the sound of the key scraping in the lock alerted her and the guard entered again, gesturing for her to follow. She followed him back to the door to the courtroom, bracing herself as the door opened and she re-entered the grand chamber.

Compared to earlier, the chambers were now well lit and full of people seated in the rows of observation pews. The timbre of the room changed as the people saw her be led to the dais at the centre of the room before the vacant judges table.

A few cries of “Murderer!” and “Garlean Scum!” filled the air but it was no worse than she expected or deserved. She stood with her back to the people, head held high as the guard walked back to take his position along the wall with the other city guardsman that flanked the walls.

As the noise of the pews gradually dropped away in anticipation, Fordola felt a premonition and looked right, towards the opposite door to the one she had entered from which moments later opened. The Seedseer led the judges out. Kan-E-Senna wore her traditional long white dress of office and walked, calm and composed, across the floor towards the judges table. Admiral Merlwyb entered next, her black coat and boots a striking contrast to the smaller Seedseer. The admiral’s eyes scrutinised Fordola as she walked past, betraying nothing of her thoughts. Raubahn and Lyse followed close behind, the one tall and burly, the other slender and lithe. Raubahn seemed to nod his head slightly at Fordola in greeting as he walked by, Lyse just offered her a silent, pitying look and Fordola managed to keep her face stoic in response.

Finally, as the judges noisily slid into the hardwood chairs at the front of the court, the door opened one last time and Alphinaud Leveilleur entered. His smart blue cloak and confident walk belayed his young appearance. For a moment Fordola imagined a scene in which the pews broke out into rapturous applause on the entrance of him as a conductor and she smirked at the thought, earning a sharp look from Lyse.

A moment later, Alphinaud settled into his seat at the centre of the group of judges and rifled through the various sheets of paper in front of him. Fordola watched stoically as he shuffled them again, the noise in the courtroom dropping away. Where was Sara? Her chair off to the side of the judges table was there, but vacant. Was Arenvald somewhere in the crowd behind or outside?

She decided to risk turning to look back at the pews, a sea of hostile, angry faces looked back at her. No sign of her or Arenvald there. Before she turned back a scruffily dressed man on the third row caught her eye, he had a raised fist in the unmistakable gesture of a hangman’s noose.

Alphinaud coughed primly once, twice, thrice, which served to draw back her attention. “Court is back in session.” Despite his small frame, his mature voice perfectly carried and echoed across the courtroom. “We are here to complete the testimony of one Fordola rem Lupis before proceeding to consider suitable penalties and passing judgement. Before we begin I would…” He faltered, as the massive double doors of the courthouse suddenly opened letting in a blast of hot, fresh air.

Fordola turned back around again, squinting in the light at the ornately armoured figures making their way down the central aisle past the murmuring crowd.

She recognised them; they were dressed in the old Ala Mhigan royal guard outfit she had once read about in her history classes. The chivalric armour trimmed with dyed purple fur, tall golden griffin helms and large, glinting poleaxes held at the ready. At least a score in total marched smartly forwards, making the outnumbered city guardsman clustered by the walls look quite shabby by contrast.

The first of the royal guard reached the front of the pews, just before the dais where she stood and fanned out in a line across the court from left to right.

“What is the meaning of this!?” Raubahn thundered loudly, on his feet looking over the line of soldiers.

There was the sound of a dry cough, and Fordola craned her neck to try and see the new figure advancing down the central pews, the double doors smoothly shutting behind, the burning morning light being sealed out.

She didn’t recognise the figure, but the murmurs of the crowd were one of recognition and acceptance. He was tall, handsome even, with thick, wiry dark hair, a trimmed beard and tiny silver spectacles balanced over his pointed noise. He was dressed in ornate, flowing Ala Mhigan robes in a purple trim that matched those of the royal guard. Clearly one of the new gentry of the city.

He walked through the royal guard and straight past Fordola without a second look, coming to a halt just before the judges table, offering a short, curt bow with hand on heart.

“Senator Beckmann.” Lyse now stood up alongside Raubahn, who was still on his feet and glowering at the interruption. “This is most unexpected.” She said, her tone one of dramatic understatement.

“And most irregular.” Alphinaud was eyeing the newcomer warily, his tone clipped and controlled. “Court is in session and procedure dictates that it remain sealed until an adjournment. I would ask that the gentleman withdraw himself from these premises.”

“Forgive me for the intrusion.” The man bowed again, his voice smooth and modulated. Fordola grimaced at the man’s backside before he straightened up again, speaking loudly enough that his voice carried across the whole courthouse. “I had no idea that the court was due to start early today, otherwise my arrival would not have been quite so tardy.”

“And who are you exactly?” Merlwyb waved a hand at the man, her voice deeply unimpressed.

“I am Dr Allric Beckmann.” Beckmann amplified his voice loudly over the continuing murmur of voices from the crowd. “I have the pleasure of sitting on the Ala Mhigan state duma representing the people of my district.” He turned to face the seated members of the public, scrupulously avoiding looking at Fordola directly. “Many of you here will know me, even if those outside our glorious city may not.”

“And what does a representative of the new republic want here?” Raubahn asked, but before Beckmann could answer Alphanaud had stood up himself.

“It matters not what the senator wishes to discuss.” Fordola was sure now she could detect the irritation in the voice behind that pretty face. “Court is in session and it will have to wait until after the hearing. I must ask the court bailiff to escort you from the building, sir.”

Alphanaud gestured to one of the nearby columns where a city guardsmen stood waiting. Fordola vaguely suspected this was the man who had come for her this morning and led the escort. The guardsman half-heartedly started walking towards the senator, until two of the royal guardsmen moved to block his path warningly. A second later the poleaxes clashed together, forming a barrier of steel before the hapless man.

“Please forgive my intrusion.” Beckmann spoke again, directing his words to Alphanaud respectfully. “I came following an emergency sitting of the state duma late yesterday. I bring a missive for the court signed by eleven of the fourteen Ala Mhigan senators.”

“What emergency sitting?” Lyse sounded deeply indignant, her eyes flashing as she spoke. “As a senator myself, I should have been there.”

“Forgive me, but as has already been pointed out, you were in court and unreachable.” At this Beckmann favoured Alphinaud with another nod of the head, Fordola could almost imagine the gleaming teeth smiling at the judges. “As per our newly written constitution, partly drafted by yourself, Senator Lyse – an emergency sitting can be held by at least four senators, a binding statement can be issued by a majority vote of at least ten.”

Fordola distinctly saw the admiral roll her eyes and mouth the word, ‘politics’. Lyse still looked deeply unimpressed and Raubahn tapped the court table impatiently. “Speak your place senator or be gone, you are delaying these hearings.”

“Very well then.” Beckmann smoothed down his robes before pulling forth a sealed letter from within. “This missive concerns the trial for the traitor of Ala Mhigo, the Garlean collaborator, one Fordola rem Lupis. It has come to our attention - that for the crimes of high treason, war crimes, extortion and exploitation of the Ala Mhigan people among many other crimes. By our legal code, the ultimate penalty of death should be called for and yet, the council of Ala Mhigo has learnt that it is not the intention of the court to consider the penalty of death in this case?” His voice rose as the noise from the pews intensified, Fordola could hear the angry voices murmuring, she felt the pitch of the room change – the court guards shuffled uneasily while the royal guard stood impassive.

“Order, order!!” Alphanuad stood, his voice raised in controlled anger himself. “This is a court of law and we will have order!”

The noise abated, but two or three cries of ‘Murderer!!’ rang out behind Fordola which she ignored. The Warrior had said many times that Alphanuad had no plans to call for the death penalty, had he been foolish enough to voice this to others?

“It is the duty of this council to hear the defendants account and match and consider the sentence after this final account.” The seedseer spoke up, her words soft yet perfectly carried around the courtroom. “We have had testimony for many days from the people of Ala Mhigo and now we hear the final account from the accused herself. How is it that you, Senator Beckmann, already know what will, and will not be considered as punishment for these crimes?”

“Then I ask the chairman of the court, will the ultimate penalty be considered?” Beckmann spread his arms wide, a gesture of supreme control and confidence. “Fordola’s crimes are legion, for just conspiring with the Garleans and oppressing the common people she deserves death. Do you deny this Mr chairman?”

Alphanaud looked composed but Fordola could see the youth seeming to squirm in place as he prevaricated in response. “The accused has yet to complete her account, we will then discuss her sentencing.”

“Have you not yet heard enough?” Beckmann thundered suddenly, voice raising dramatically - pointing a finger that swept over the admiral, the seedseer and Alphinaud himself. “You - who are foreigners to our city, you - who left Ala Mhigo unaided under Garlean oppression for some twenty years, you - who now seek a bloodless justice!? Years which saw collaborators sell out their brothers and sisters to the Garleans for an extra crumb of bread, or the perverse honour of being called a citizen, like this bitches father?” He sneered actively, now pacing left to right in front of Fordola like a caged animal. “Of all the criminals this court has judged, the one before you – the so called ‘wolf’ of Garlamald deserves the ultimate penalty for the numerous crimes she aided.”

He turned to the crowd, past the ranks of royal guardsman and raised his fist to the air. “What say you sons and daughters of Ala Mhigo? Do you want to see this harlot showed mercy? Or should she pay the retribution for all the wives without husbands, the children without parents, those who saw loved ones spirited away in the night by her skulls and the Garlean army?”

He raised his voice to fever pitch and a loud cry of ‘hang her!!’ was suddenly heard. The chant was taken up and the hostile atmosphere rose as the crowd stamped the ground, a mob whipped up into a frenzy. Fordola could feel the hostility rising in the hall, a thought flashed through her mind - that of hand-picked agitators firing up the crowd.

“Order, order!” Alphanaud shouted, as Raubahn pounded the table with his fist but to no avail, the courthouse was out of control and the few city guard powerless. 

Fordola stared at Senator Beckmann as he smiled confidently at the scene of frenzied anger and,

_Flicker,_

_He gestured, and the nearest royal guardsman reached out to grab her by the hair, twisting painful. She fought back, clawing at his armoured helmet, but he pulled, dragging her down the aisle as the guard fell in and the crowd roared its approval. Outside, a mob waited, forewarned of the coming event, a wooden platform being prepared while bribed or impassive city guards watched on, somewhere she could hear Arenvald shouting her name..._

She felt the nausea reach out to her and resisted, holding her head high as she saw Beckmann make a tiny gesture at the nearest guardsman behind her. She braced herself for the hand that would close around her hair, she would not flinch…

Suddenly, the courthouse rang to the sound of a piercing roar of furry that drowned everything out. A split moment later a dazzling, piercing bolt of pure light erupted between the senator and the judges table. Fordola felt the raw heat and energy sear over her as the senator fell backwards to the ground, gaping at the pillar of light that blazed up before him.

The light dissipated, a burning black score left on the ground and dust filled the air. As it slowly cleared a fearsome spectral blue dragon hung in the air. Its wingtips reached from one side of the chamber to the other, floating in mid-air obscuring the judges table. The dragon's fearsome face was familiar to any adult familiar with the battle of Carteneau.

“Bahamut…it…it can’t be!” Beckmann gasped from the floor, holding up a hand to ward off the mighty beast as it inched closer to him. Fordola was aware of the royal guardsman backing away, the people sitting in the pews stunned into silence, awe, maybe paralysed by fear.

The summon (Fordola saw it for what it was) howled one last time over the cringing Beckmann before drifting back, a figure walking out of the swirling dust and aether that blocked sight of the judges. The figure, partly shrouded by her blinding golden aether, reached up with a free hand, as if to stroke the mighty dragon's lower talon. Bahamut made a low, deep rumbling sound and then with a blur of motion unfolded its wings and soared up towards the courthouse rafters, vanished in a blizzard of blue tinged aether.

There was a sudden, deathly silence as the Warrior of Light swept her eyes over the scene. Beckmann stood paralyzed on the ground, Fordola knew her own mouth was wide open and her fists were clenched in the moment. Meanwhile, around her the royal guardsmen were in disarray and the crowd of people started murmuring again.

“The tragedy of our age.” Sara Alexander, the Warrior of Light looked at Fordola briefly, before speaking firmly to the crowd cutting out the murmurs. “The tragedy of our age is the fear in which we all live. Fear of primals, fear of Garlemald, fear of calamities and umbral ages.” 

She looked down at Senator Beckmann who remained staring up at her, the dust clearing to reveal the judges behind all standing on their feet looking deeply perturbed as the Warrior continued. “Fear breeds repression, it breeds hatred of other people. Hatred that can be welded by those who conceal themselves under the patriotic cloak of justice.”

Beckmann had slowly pulled himself up, his proud purple robes now dull with dust. “This is not your place champion.” He spoke hoarsely, massaging his throat with one hand. 

“No it's not.” Sara agreed with a nod of her head. “Imagine my surprise to be waylanded on the way to court by people desperately reporting assassins roving the district furthest from this courthouse. Only as I started searching the area and asked my guide a full account did I see the truth of the matter - he was hired by you, Senator Beckmann. If it wasn't for a back route through the royal gardens and a ride from my egi friend you just met, I could have missed a travesty - as I suspect I was meant to.”

She leaned closer to Beckmann, but her voice was loud enough for the hall to hear. “It's the place of judges to pass sentence; not politicians, nor mob justice.” She gestured at Fordola as whispers from the crowd rippled around the room. “Fordola rem Lupis is many things, but she now stands before the court to continue her account and for the judges to consider and pass judgement. I support this because the process is just, the judges are fair - and the sentence will bring dignity to Ala Mhigo, not shame.”

Beckmann flinched away from the bite in the Warrior’s tone but he stood his ground defiantly as he spoke back. “You may be a hero to our city, but you are not one of us, you are not Ala Mhigan - nor are you one of the Twelve.”

Sara snorted at that and waved a hand dismissively. “Whatever one believes in the Twelve or any other God. I know we can all agree that some lives are taken far too needlessly.” She leaned closer to Beckmann and only Fordola on the dais was close enough to hear her whisper to the senator. “You’re done here.”

“You are making a mistake, you’ll regret this.” Beckmann responded quietly, but he looked left and right to the royal guardsman who were staying well back from Sara and Fordola could see the cogs in his brain turning.

“I’ve mistakes aplenty, aye.” Sara chuckled, taking another step closer to the senator, her tone dropping as she stepped back. “But regrets? Not so much.” 

_Flicker,_

_The shadowy figure stood beside her, the white dead eyes staring from behind the iron mask. “If she wouldn't listen to me, the embodiment of good sense and pragmatism, then what hope could you possibly have?”_

Fordola recognised that person, and that voice - a shiver ran down her spine. 

“Will the senator withdraw?” Alphanaud had regained his voice as the other judges watched Sara Alexander now turn away, and walk back to the high table. Leaving a senator who seemed seized by indecision. 

“Aye, but the orders of the duma still hold.” Beckmann tried one last time, brandishing the letter like a shield. “We expect and request the death penalty for this traitor, I will stay to see justice carried out.” He turned, and gestured at the royal guardsman who began moving to the back of the hall. After a moment to sweep his eyes over the crowd he made his way to the front row of the pews. A hyur, who was either keen to make the senators good graces, or had already seen enough, leapt out of his seat for the senator to take.

Fordola turned away, watching Sara who was now deep in conversation with the other judges, minus the seedseer who had calmly resumed her seat and was serenely staring off into the distance.

Fordola concentrated on the wisps of aether around the high table, the Admiral seemed...proud - she was a woman that valued action. Raubahn felt similarly, but it was tinged by a shame of the moment - and underneath an anger. Lyse was harder to read, she was speaking animatedly to the Warrior and gesturing at Beckmann and then looking to Alphinaud. Fordola suspected that Lyse wanted the senator and any agitators removed from the crowd but the white haired youth seemed unmoved by her demands.

Finally, Sara moved away from the judges table, with one last look at Fordola. ‘ _Sorry I was late_ ’ her mind pushed gently against Fordola’s before she moved to take the sparse, isolated chair off to one side marked for her use. 

The noise of the crowd was building again and Alphinaud rapped the table smartly with his fist. “Let us resume afresh. Fordola rem Lupis, will you continue your account honestly, openly and omit no detail of the final siege of Ala Mhigo?” 

“I will.” 

“We are particularly interested to hear any final discussions you had with Zenos on the day of the siege.” Alphinaud continued. “If he took you into his confidence about his plans to use the captive primal, Shinryu to overcome the Warrior of Light and the alliance forces.”

“To be honest.” Fordola began, hearing a loud snort from Beckmann in the pews behind her. “I think Zenos was consumed by the thought of meeting your champion again.” She indicated Sara unnecessarily. “He was consumed by a...a lust I suppose for battle, any interest he had in me by this point seemed dimmed by the fervour, the single-minded desire for battle, for carnage.” 

“And what was your part in the city's defence?” The Admiral asked bluntly. 

“I was to break the alliance on the walls of Ala Mhigo.” Fordola spoke the harsh, but true words. “I was to drag your Warrior of Light before Zenos, so that he could unleash the twisted science of Aulus mal Asina on her. I thought I could, but looking back now...I think the prince had already discarded me as a tool, along with every man, woman and child in the city of Ala Mhigo at that point.”

“So tell us.” Alphinaud spoke up. “Tell us of the final days of the Garlean occupation, your encounters, decisions and activities on the day. We will match the testimonies we have heard from many others to yours.”

Fordola nodded, setting her heart. She had been a maelstrom of emotions on the day, full of regret and rage for her Crani Lupi, self-hatred and loathing - but also a desperate desire to prove herself, to Lord Zenos, and the Eorzean champion.

She stole a look at Sara who met her eyes firmly.

_Flicker,_

_A massive, coiling dragon filled the sky, ‘The heavens are too small a field for our dance!’ The voice of Zenos yae Galvus filled the Warriors head as shades of other Warriors of Light stood alongside her. ‘Let us transcend this mortal coil!’_

Fordola broke the connection, ignoring the buzz in the head. She had to keep her head clear, what happened afterwards didn't matter. She had to tell herself that to go on.

She had to finish this and be done, perhaps then she would finally find something, anything to quench the ache in her heart. Even if it was in death at the hands of her own kinsmen.


	20. The Thunder

#  **The Thunder**

“So, we come to the siege of Ala Mhigo itself.” Alphanaud resumed, as the courthouse quietened. “At the end of the last day you were returning to the city while Alliance forces advanced through Castellum Velodyna, sweeping aside a disjointed Garlean defence of Porta Praetoria before encamping on the Western banks of The Lochs. What were your actions on returning to the city?”

Fordola paused, remembering that bleak night, the feelings of anger, betrayal and despair all jumbled within her. Did she truly want to remember that night? Without deciding on an answer, she heard her voice speaking in a flat, emotionless tone. “I arrived back as night set in. I immediately made my way to the throne room to…speak with Zenos, but he was unavailable and I headed directly for his quarters.”

“Why?!” Lyse asked suddenly, breaking up the memories that jumbled within her head. “To confront him?”

Fordola let out a dry laugh at that, avoiding Sara’s eyes, praying that the Warrior of Light would not have one of her convenient insights into her past. “Quite frankly...I wasn't sure either.”

She still wasn't sure to this day.

\---

Outside the rain hammered the palace of Ala Mhigo. Thunder rolled distantly, building in intensity as the storm moved closer. Intermittent jabs of lightning flickered down from the heavens on the scale of Garlemalds recent defeats.

Never before either, had the weather so accurately portrayed Fordola’s mood as she marched up the interior palace steps at a frenzied pace. Energy boiling and rolling within her, was it her own? Or was it the power of the resonant frothing over within her?

The palace was dark at this late hour, only lit by flaring lanterns at intermittent intervals, but her heightened senses had no difficulty in picking out the smallest detail. Few soldiers were patrolling the palace corridors at this time when most were asleep, those that were, immediately leapt out of Fordola’s way when they saw her coming.

Her leather armour was soaked through from the walk into the palace from where she had landed, but she did not feel the chill. The path she cut through the palace left behind a trail of water drops from the gunblade dripping at her side.

She reached the top level of the palace, the corridor that led to the personal quarters of Prince Zenos. This passageway was better lit, with braziers illuminating the six fully armoured guards standing at the prince’s door.

Fordola closed in on the door, hardly looking at the Garleans who moved to block her path, several starting to unsheath gunblades as she approached. She could not see what they saw; a bedraggled, soaking wet woman possessed of a frenzied energy...and a single eye that pulsed with red, aetheric energy.

“Halt!” The lead officer commanded firmly, a tone used to being obeyed - a hand on his gunblade hilt. “This is not your place savage.”

“Step aside.” Fordola snarled, feeling the fiery energies within her flaring, snapping angrily, urging to be unleashed.

“Turn back or be put down!” The officer ordered as the other troops fanned out around him. His own gauntlet twitched on his weapon, and Fordola _saw_ his motion before it happened - pulling the weapon forth and pointing it at her face. Before he had a chance to do so – Fordola closed the distance in a blur of unleashed energy. Her right fist crunched into the man's helmet, crumpling the armour around it - with the energy of the resonant she felt nothing. The Garlean was flung backwards as if hit by a manticore, crumpling against the door he guarded with a loud crash..

She was hardly thinking, she just unleashed the energy that had been building within her since departing Castrum Abania. She was among the five remaining Garleans, none of whom had a chance to fully draw weapons before empowered fists found them. She tore into them, venting her anger, her rage at the ghosts that haunted her, and against that they could not hold.

The last body slumped to the ground, a red pool welling out from the chunk of armour she had pummelled through. Dead or alive - she did not pause to check or think through the consequences. Without pause, she flung the prince's door open and marched in, slamming it shut behind her to hide the sight of the bodies.

Like the rest of the palace, the royal quarters were only dimly lit by lanterns set deep in the recesses of the walls. Through the great panoramic window on the far end of the room, flickers of lighting danced in the blackness and illuminated the rain pelting the city below. The stuffed griffin head above the faintly glowing embers of the fireplace leered out at Fordola in the shadows. The long sofa was unoccupied as she looked around for the prince.

A hardwood door was slightly ajar against the far wall, the bedchambers perhaps? She started towards it, and had crossed half the room when she froze. A sixth sense within her, resonant abilities or her natural abilities screamed a warning. An acidic taste filled her mouth and a part of her brain screamed at her _what are you here to do_? She swayed in place, looking down at her boots which had trampled deeply into the rich, deep carpet beneath. 

She had done the prince’s order and cut down her own brothers and sisters of the Crani Lupi in the process. Was she here to supplicate herself? To feed a hunger she did not understand? Or was she here for something else...some vengeance for those she had lost?

“The wolf returns...” The voice of Lord Zenos was mocking, seductive with power and she looked up to see him standing in the open door frame, a thin smile on his face. A faint cloud of yellow tinged aether flickered back and forth around him. She had a sudden vision of a clouded viper serpent swishing back and forth, impatient for a kill. 

He was glad in only a simple silk cover, which wrapped around his waist and hung down, leaving his bare, glistening chest of muscles and scars unbound, illuminated by the flickering lightning and dim lanterns. Behind him, she caught a glimpse of the royal bedroom, his tri-scabbard of blades lying far against the bed, many paces away.

He stepped slowly forwards, leaving the door to the bedchambers open and Fordola instinctively took half a step back without realising it. Zenos smirked and moved past her to the long hardwood table by the window. He picked up a golden goblet that was already filled with wine and turned, raising in a mock salute to Fordola as he sipped it. Behind him the rain continued to pelt the window, drilling to be let in.

“I wondered if you might come here tonight.” He continued, before another thin sip of the wine. “Did you bring my friend with you?”

“Your...friend m’lord?” She spoke the words through dry lips, licking them without thinking.

“Our friend.” He purred again, and she saw the flicker of madness in those eyes for the first time. “You desire her as well don’t you? I can see it in your eyes, I can feel it in the way you walk, your actions outside - you are filled with the same desire, the lust to conquer your foes, your limits, am I wrong?” He questioned her, swirling the goblet, the red liquid thickly rolling within.

Fordola felt her shoulders shake, a mixture of feelings rolled with her, but she whispered the words she knew were true. “No m’lord.”

“Mmm.” Zenos purred, putting the goblet down and slowly advancing on her. “A wise warlord once said there are only two forces that unite men - fear and interest, you know that don’t you wolf?” He stopped a few paces from her. She did not meet his eyes, staring instead on his bare torso. Thin scars roved along his body, but they all looked old. It seemed, in recent years, that none had cut him. 

“I came...I came to report to you that the deed is done.” She choked the words, gritting her teeth, suddenly her fire tempered with confusion and indecision. “Specula Imperators has been destroyed with the enemy taking heavy losses. I met with the Warrior of Light and her companions and extended your invitation...she’ll be here soon...I’m sure.” 

“Tomorrow you will bring her to me.” The prince's voice rose in excitement as he loomed over her, hardly seeming to listen. “Tomorrow I will ascend to the pinnacle of power and only she can stop me and she knows it. I will claim her for my own and break her. In time she will fight alongside you Fordola.” He brought a heavy, bare arm up to rest on her shoulder pauldron, she could feel the warmth through it as his eyes bore into her. “Perhaps one day she can be yours; if you can surpass me.”

Fordola remained quiet, the energy within her still cracking like the lightning outside. She wanted to unleash it, unleash it all! For a moment, the sudden thought about drawing the gunblade from her belt and driving it into the prince's bare stomach…it seemed so right!

His other hand moved then, it came to rest on her gunblades hilt at her waist and he leaned in closer, confidently. His eyes now impossible to hide from, his intentions unmistakable, she looked up into his eyes and

_Flicker,_

_The bed w_ _as soft bene_ _ath her back as he threw her onto it, their mutual raging energy crackled with the rumble of thunder outside. He loomed over her, the silk cover long since clawed away by her fingers that had left bloody lines in his bare chest. Bits of her leather armour lay in pieces around the room where he had ripped it away from her, the discarded gunblade glistened in the sliver of moon which showed through a break in the clouds. Had she drawn it on him? Had he ripped it from her as they fought over it?_

_He leaned down over her, blocking out the light and she wanted it, she wanted the release, to forget herself, to forget everything in this moment of pure self-hatred. She stared at him and she knew that hatred showed in her eyes and it pleased him as his bare skin slid against her own wet body. He revolted her, and she forced herself against him willingly, matching the burning hunger of the prince. She hated what she had become, and her fingers gouged against his back, clawing and urging him in. She met his eyes as he pressed into her, and a moment of dull realisation pierced through her frenzy._

_Zenos did not see her._

_In his mad fantasy it was another person he was entering. A pure soul to break and remake as his own. A blinding radiance compared to Fordola’s own tarnished, artificial energies._

_She beat his chest even as she willingly moved to the rhythm of the thunder outside. Tears pounded from her eyes as she realised the same mad energy that pushed him forwards had driven her here. She wanted the same thing he did, but it was a different person that they hungered for. A different person they wanted to claim for their own. He already knew this, but she had yet to accept it - but now in a moment of stark clarity she accepted her desire for what it was. It was not a desire for him._

_The rhythm intensified as the storm raged outside. The only sound was that of the thunder without and their ragged breathing within. The smell of sweat and rain, the energies of their mutual contempt and lust for something neither had. Fordola let out a howl of pure anguish even as her body spasmed and shuddered unwillingly as the energies within her boiled over in a torrent of_

She tore herself away from him, almost falling over as she backed up towards the shut entrance door.

Prince Zenos watched her with amusement, his hands falling to his side as he cocked his head to one side, the thin, flaxen hair waving over his face like a curtain. “Did you see something wolf? Does your gift give you sight of what is to come? Do you see her brought before me? Well!?”

She backed up now, her hand grasping at the door as the prince's eyes burned into her. She stepped out into the corridor, nearly tripping over one of the Garlean bodies and fled down the passageway. The crackle of thunder and the princes mocking laughter chased her into the night. 

\---

“Fordola!” Raubahns voice cut through her bitter, confused memories. “Did you meet with the prince or not?”

“I…” She stammered suddenly, biting her lip as she looked down at the dias. Her chained hands, the thousand accusing eyes of the city behind her. Her, the Warrior of Light seated to one side, could she see?

“Well??” 

“His room was guarded.” She managed, speaking to the floor. “I tried to argue to enter but the guard turned me away...I returned to my quarters, angry and frustrated and passed the night within.”

She heard, rather than saw Raubahns shoulders slump as he leaned back in his chair. “Fine, so you didn't see the prince after all - why didn't you just say so?”

“What happened the next morning, the day of the attack?” Lyse spoke up impatiently, keen for this telling to be done. “Testimony has been given by the people of that day, the violence and mistreatment given to them, the imprisonments, what part did you play in that!?”

“I…” Fordola stammered, her mind still reeling. She gritted her teeth and looked back up at the judges. Alphinaud raised one eyebrow as he encouraged her to speak with a wave of his hand. “I was summoned early that morning to a war council.” She looked him in the eyes firmly, finding her tongue. “Zenos had summoned all high ranking officers to the throne room to prepare for the imminent battle of Ala Mhigo.” 

“Then continue with your testimony.” Alphanaud urged. “What happened there?”

\---

She had spent the night barricaded in her room surrounded by the phantoms whispering in her ears.

The Warrior of Light, a future vision of strength to overcome. Prince Zenos, an always present shadow of desire and power. Her Crani Lupi: Ansfrid, Hrudolf, Emelin, all specters of her past failures.

She wondered if the palace guard would come for her, drag her out down to the cells on account of the guards she had slain earlier tonight. Yet none came.

She wondered if Prince Zenos would pursue her into the depths of his palace. Yet he did not.

This just left her with the phantoms. They clustered around her sparse room, whispering words of failure, of weakness, of treachery.

How many bells passed before the knock on her door? She didn’t know. But finally, she could sense the approach of an unfamiliar person outside her room. There was a sharp knock and she heard a clipped Imperial tone announce loudly. “All senior commanders are to report to the throne room for a war council requested by His Grace, Prince Zenos;” before the sounds of footsteps marching swiftly away.

She shuddered, but stood, and straightened her armor and buckled her gunblade back to her belt. She would see this through, she would conquer the Warrior of Light, master her abilities, and blaze a path for her people.

She would see to it that the first battalion of resonants would be handpicked from the people of Ala Mhigo. All that stood in her path, was the Warrior of Light…

\---

As she climbed the steps through the palace, the noise grew greater. Soldiers and petty officers were moving about the place in a hive of preparation. She spared a glance outside one of the windows as she neared the throne room. It was early morning, but hardly any sun broke through the brooding black clouds which continued to lash the city with rain. The odd flicker of lightning still flashed before her, but the storm had clearly spent its strength and was weakening.

She turned away, avoiding a dozen marching Garleans before approaching the throne room doors, finding them thrown wide open to admit senior staff. She entered, and stalked towards the empty throne, seeing a broad table had been moved onto the main floor, around which a dozen Garlean officers stood arguing with no obvious seniority on display.

On the table, a model of Ala Mhigo had been painstakingly assembled. Blocks of wood outlined the great city walls within which numerous small stones marked out the districts and buildings surrounding the palace itself, which was represented by a small Garlean helmet upon which some fool had carefully attached a miniature Garlean flag. There is an air of farce to this room, Fordola thought, as she leaned against a nearby column, watching, and being pointedly ignored by the other men.

There were no generals or senior commanders she knew of note, maybe half were senior centurio’s who commanded infantry units of a hundred men. Half the number around the table were made up of optio’s (petty officers who assisted centurions) and even a few tesserarius officers (communication specialists between officers and soldiers), marked by their yellow helmet slits. For a moment she almost missed Mattenix not being here to cuff the officers into order, then she dryly chuckled at how absurd that thought was.

A few moments passed as she listened to the bickering and raised voices, and she focused on trying to pick out each man's aetheric current. For most Garleans, the aether was barely a hint, although one or two had slightly more. A swirl of blue here, a touch of green there, she half closed her eyes, all the better to block out the raised, angry voices around the table.

The crash of the palace doors slamming shut broke the moment and she opened her eyes to see Prince Zenos, followed by Lord Aulus, advancing towards the assembled group.

The prince was assembled in all his barbaric finery, the dark, full plate armor with the Ala Mhigan style cloak flapping over it. The tri scabbard at his side, the horned, skull white mask held casually under one arm as his eyes roved the room. He strode forwards with purpose, with arrogance even, as one who owned them all.

Lord Aulus by contrast, walked straight backed with his arms clasped behind. He was garbed in the traditional imperial white scientist robes, only the gold trim and detail betrayed his high status.

Fordola’s eyes were drawn to the large magitek unit that glided in behind him. She vaguely recognized it as a minitek conveyor, a floating personal transportation device that was apparently all the rage among the Garlean senators back in the Garlean capital. From what little she knew about the luxurious devices, the one that followed Lord Aulus appeared to have been significantly altered. Dozens of spikes and protrusions issued from it, as it came closer, she could feel the crackle of aetheric energy housed within it.

Zenos came to a stop a yalm or two from the table as the Garlean assembly saluted briskly, Fordola pushed herself off the column and mimicked the gesture as she watched the Prince’s eyes rove the likeness of his city on the table.

“You.” He looked sharply at one of the optio’s clad in full armor nearest to him. “Report on our enemies, where are they and how many are there?”

“Yes M’lord!” The man flung another, passable salute while remaining to attention. “The savages overrun Porta Praetoria late in the night and have encamped along the western banks of Loch Seld. Advance units have been sighted occupying The Saltery and Lochwatch but the bulk of their forces remains in Porta Praetoria. Air reconnaissance has been limited on account of the weather, but we estimate some 5,000 enemy troops. The numbers seen greatly outweigh what was reported at Castellum Velodyna.”

“Mmm...interesting.” Zenos said, in a tone that could not sound less interested. He leaned over the table; his eyes suddenly fixated on the helmet that marked the palace in the city model. “Are they all Eorzean troops?”

“No M’lord.” The optio continued, throwing another, better salute this time. “They appear to be significantly augmented by troops flying Doman colours and also tribes of Au Ra from the northern steppes.”

“And our forces?”

“M’lord.” Another, older officer - one of the centurio's spoke up. “We have perhaps 800 troops within the city that can be relied upon. We are significantly augmented by several warmachina maniples and the city's airborne gunship arm.”

“And the city guard?” Lord Aulus' smooth, modulated voice spoke up from behind the prince.

“We disarmed them early this morning.” The centurio continued. “Any Ala Mhigan whose loyalty was questionable has been incarcerated and the rest disbanded and sent to their homes.”

“I see.” The prince leaned back, resting his hand on the tri-scabbard casually, before turning to Lord Aulus, ignoring the assembled officers. “You read the intelligence reports from this morning, how do you read this situation?”

Lord Aulus inclined his head in a slight bow, before examining the table before him with a contemptuous look. “The savages arrayed before us are a disparate force which will have trouble coordinating. They lack proper provisions, or the necessary siege equipment for a protracted siege. They will attempt to storm the city this day, utilising their large numbers to best effect. What cannons they have will focus on the city gates which is where I would concentrate our defenses.”

“Agreed.” Zenos nodded at that. “The air fleet of the IVth Imperial Legion has indicated it is en-route, Noah van Gabranth has indicated they will arrive within a week.”

“Noah van Gabranth is most unreliable my lord” Aulus spoke plainly to Zenos, ignoring the other officers. “I fear he has his own agenda, additionally rumors are abound of building unrest in Bozjan. I think it only a matter of time until Bozjan rises against him and any air fleet will be recalled back to the bulk of the IVth Legion.”

“You are almost certainly correct.” Zenos nodded again, Fordola could sense the prince's attention was elsewhere, fixated on what was to come. “The siege of Ala Mhigo will be decided today when the enemy breaks upon our walls and is cast back into the abyss.”

“My lord...forgive my impertinence.” Another officer spoke up. “Should our gunships, for whatever reason, be destroyed we will be hard pressed to keep their cannons from breaching the city gates. Once inside the savages could rapidly advance on the palace itself, perhaps before the city is besieged you should depart for the capital?”

“In our moment of triumph?” Zenos fixed the officer with a baleful look, and Fordola realised that had the officer been a bit closer, Zenos would have cloven him in two. As the officer in question was across the table from him, he was spared only by the prince’s apathy to move closer.

“M’lord is correct.” The older centurio spoke up again. “The walls of Ala Mhigo are a strong defensive position. We have gunships that can scatter their cannons and disciplined, reliable troops against a rabble. However, to protect against any eventuality we did have a contingency plan…”

He looked to the prince who inclined his head in approval to continue. The centurio moved back to the table, pointing to the main Ala Mhigan district, a mass of cluttered pebbles near the main city gate, several pebbles had been inked in red. “Should the gates fall, the enemy will be able to advance through the Ala Mhigan slums and residential district, bypassing the main open avenues where we could fire upon them. We have strategic watchtowers spread throughout this area and I have taken the liberty of filling them with munitions in advance of this siege. Should the gates fall I propose firing these sites, which will turn the entire lower city into a blaze, particularly as the rain is due to shortly break.” The centurio swept the jumble of pebbles aside for dramatic effect. “The advancing savages will be caught in the blaze and forced to advance along the main avenue should they wish to take the palace, from which we will cut them down in droves.”

The man finished and Fordola felt sudden seething energy and marched to the table, shoving violently an officer who hadn't moved aside quickly enough. “Fire our own city? Have you lost your godsdamned mind!?”

She was dimly aware of several of the centurio’s backing away nervously, (unknown to her) the mandala pattern flared in her eye. The centurio took half a step back, nervously looking from her to a deeply amused Lord Zenos, before back to her again. “It must be done.” The Garleans voice was pitched higher now as Fordola blazed a few paces from him.

“How do you propose to manage an evacuation of such a large area during a siege?” Fordola slapped the table for emphasis. “There are thousands of citizens in that area, where do you propose to send them?”

“Citizens?” The centurio cocked his head slightly and Fordola caught the puzzled tone before she caught the man's meaning.

Those of the slums and the wider lower city weren't Garlean citizens. They were nothing to these people.

“Pilus.” Zenos’ tone rang out as Fordola took a half step forward towards the sniveling centurio, fully prepared to rip him limb from limb there and then. She shuddered to a halt at the prince's voice and turned to him, seeing the ghost of a smile on his lips.

“Pilus.” He repeated, moving around the table as Garleans leapt away from him. He drew close, towering over her. “All Eorzea will burn after today, yet you would spare those that cast the first stones at you?” He paused meaningfully as the memories of that day, all those years ago swept over Fordola.

“It is wrong M’lord!” She said firmly, looking him in the eye. She turned back to the centurio that had suggested the idea and he quailed before her. She thought quickly before speaking loudly to the table. “How will victory taste with the city burnt down around us? The savages defeat is inevitable, firing half our city in advance is cowardice, aye and insubordination. How else shall Garlean troops reoccupy our city's strongpoints when the battle is won if they have been turned to ashes?”

Zenos clapped three times theatrically before looking around the table. “I have no interest in this farce. I will depart with Lord Aulus shortly for a procedure that will guarantee our ultimate victory. In my absence, who will lead our forces?”

“I will M’lord.” A centurio that had stayed quiet until now saluted firmly. “Tyreman quo Laenius.”

“Are you certain you are not outranked around this table?” Zenos purred, his eyes stopping on Fordola. “There is at least one ‘rem’ among you, who should take charge.”

“M’lord!” The centurio spoke up as murmurs sprung up around the table of dissent.

The prince’s arm blurred, and a sword leapt out of his scabbard in a single motion. It cleaved across the table, scattering the wood and stones that made up the painstakingly assembled model of Ala Mhigo. The helmet, which represented the palace flew at Fordola who caught it easily, flag and all, while the other Garleans were showered with debris.

“You will obey her in the city's defence!” The prince’s voice was deadly as he surveyed the room, naked blade held forth. “I have a greater prize than Ala Mhigo in mind! A prize, a friend, who will make everything worth living for! You will obey the wolf or you will answer to me!”

He waited until the cowed Garleans were nodding ascent before sliding the blade back into the scabbard and turning to Fordola. “The city is yours, viceroy - don’t fail me.”

He held her gaze for a moment, the hint of the deadless threat as Fordola saw the madness flicker within there again, and

_Flicker_

_She recognised that table, deep in the bowels of the palace._

_The table on which Zenos lay, looking up fearlessly at the blue light above him. Aulus and the other scientists clustered around the nearby control consoles. ‘Subject XXVI, 4.7.' Lord Aulus’s voice was tinged with fevered excitement. ‘Align to 0.456903α, cycle 26 times, double infusion of Aulus-Aquila particles….stand by.’_

She jerked back to the audience room, Prince Zenos was striding away with Lord Aulus and his curious machina device trailing behind. The assembled Garleans were nervously watching her, she could feel the resentment brewing in a few of them. She could sense the confusion, the hatred and knew action was needed.

She unsheathed her gunblade and raised it in the air, noting with some satisfaction how the closest men flinched back. She leveled it on the decimated city model. “When a city is besieged, is it the time to busy oneself in the palace around wooden bricks?” She asked rhetorically, sweeping the room with her burning eyes. “To the walls all of you, bring out the full fury of the garrison! We shall meet them on the walls of Ala Mhigo and crush them forever.” She lowered the gunblade, letting her eyes sweep the room a second time. “I’ll see to it that the first man who reports sight of the eikon slayer to me will be promoted before the end of the day. Leave her to me! Now, to your stations!”

She sheathed the sword as a few of the men threw a half hearted salute and began heading for the door at a fast trot. It seemed only the flotsum of XIIth legion remained within Ala Mhigo. So be it...She would not lose, she could not lose…

\---

“So you were put in charge of the city defences?” The admiral sounded incredulous. “I find it hard to believe any Garleans would follow a non-Garlean into battle?”

“You know nothing of the Garlean Empire.” Fordola shook her head firmly, the courthouse silent. “Additionally, I think the other officers were shocked into submission by the knowledge that Zenos would not be leading the defence itself that day.”

“And you saw a vision of him in the same laboratory that you were...modified in?” Lyse asked, studying her notes in front of her on the judges table.

“Yes…” Fordola nodded steadily. “I was a test subject, little more. He...Zenos...had the perfected process that day while the siege raged...it was that ability that would allow him to control the captive primal I later found out about - Shinryu.”

“Yet Lord Zenos was sighted in the palace itself later that day and defeated by our friend?” The Seedseer objected, waving at Sara Alexander who sat watching quietly. Kan-E-Senna fixed Fordola with piercing eyes. “He would retreat, wounded to the Royal Menagerie true - but why was he so easily defeated within the palace itself later that day?”

Fordola coughed in mock humour. “You should more clearly define ‘easy’ Seedseer. After my procedure I lay comatose for half a day before only slowly recovering. Zenos had a much more intensive procedure yet managed to make it back up to the palace throne room to face your Warrior of Light in battle, probably from his own fevered eagerness. Only when he realised that he could not fight at full strength did he fall back to the Royal Menagerie and his supposed ‘trump card’, the primal Shinryu.”

“Before we move on.” Alphinaud coughed primily, waving a hand for silence. “You mentioned the Garleans planned to set ablaze half the city in their defensive efforts? This was an effort you stymied?”

“Aye.” Fordola nodded, taking no pride in the statement of fact.

“Preposterous!” The shout came from behind her. She didn't need to look to know Allric Beckmann had risen to his feet in the public pews. “This is such obvious falsehood! Surely you cannot believe such lies and deceit.” A murmur of agreement could be heard amongst the crown.

“Be silent senator!” Raubahn slapped the table angrily, tone one of disgust. Fordola swore the table had an imprint from where the Flame General had repeatedly struck the table over the course of her hearing.

“Let us continue and conclude with the siege itself.” Lyse suggested as Fordola sensed the simmering discontent of the crowd behind. “Fordola, continue with your account of the siege...and your final confrontation with the Warrior of Light.”

Fordola’s eyes twitched at Sara again, the woman watched silently, eyes cast down as if lost deep in thought.

Was she lost in a reflection of that day? The cannonfire, the madness of the walls, or their final conflict in the laboratory deep below the city?

Fordola steadied herself. Time to conclude her account and receive her judgement.


End file.
